


Holy Fire

by Harlot



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Convoluted Feelings, Drama, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harlot/pseuds/Harlot
Summary: Jackson's kindness had limits. Though Mark had was human and capable of exploding once in a while, Jackson could only be expected to remain understanding for so long, especially when he was nursing his own problems as well. Unfortunately, things don't always go according to plan and there's always the off chance that one could end up destroying more than they were aware that they could. This wasn't usual for Jackson who tended to absorb, let things pile up and then dissipate with time. Jackson who just so happened to be incapable of being understanding this time around when Mark does something he can't just get over. Jackson who just so happened to be in absolutely no mood to bare his throat for to make everything okay. Jackson who was more than willing to show Mark exactly who he shouldn't be fucking with and why some lines are just not meant to be crossed.





	1. durability

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story unless otherwise stated and am in no way associated with them. This story is a work of fiction. The events and characters used are merely borrowed. The celebrity names and images do not literally represent who the person is in real life and no offense is intended toward them or anyone that they are associated with. Please do not re-post this story anywhere or translate it into other languages without my permission. Do not claim the story as your own. Any similarities between my story and another are purely coincidental.
> 
> Author's Note \- I decided to take a step away from my two on-goings to work on something unrelated and at first I had no idea what I even wanted to write _but_ this story is inspired by GOT7's performance in [**THIS**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7k7ix-Z_J8c) video. It made me feel some type of way and I couldn't help myself. OTL. This story is **complete**. I will release the chapters periodically as I see fit. (: This will also be posted on AO3 as I unhide each chapter.
> 
> Twitter: **@harlotos**

**There were numerous times** where it was hard to pretend as though everything was simple and easy for Mark as an idol. It was hard to pretend that an allegedly perfect life couldn’t actually reach the point of being stressful or overbearing when, in reality, being constantly scrutinized and expected from by literally anyone and anything with eyes was more than enough to provoke an otherwise wavering sense of mental stability when one couldn’t even hope to have a moment to themselves.  
  
More often than not, the ability to _breathe_ felt more like a luxury than an innate reflex.  
  
For Mark especially, it had grown to pose as more of a constant reminder that he wasn’t perfect enough to keep up; he was meant to exist unblemished, express unconditional happiness, and he especially couldn’t do anything without first considering just _who_ and _how many_ he might offend regardless of how simple or complicated it might be. He had _nothing_ to be upset over but _everything_ to be thankful for. He was _obligated_ to comply to whatever the expectations may be with his head held high, a youthful glint in his eyes, and an unwavering smile plastered on his face.  
  
He was struggling.  
  
Mark only ever found himself more and more aware of the pressure that had become attached to his career. It was both physically and emotionally taxing and every so often, Mark went through small moments in which he missed things he seemed to no longer have.  
  
He missed the _freedom_ to be reckless, bold, and kind of stupid once in a while—to have the ability to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted without risking the chance of being judged, reprimanded, or jeopardizing his career. Sometimes Mark just wanted to go his own way and do things how he wanted to do them but he just couldn’t. Sometimes he missed being able to make generic mistakes that humans tended to make without risking everything. He even missed being able to do the little things that only became wrong or seemed to be wrong once he had become an idol—having a girlfriend, getting drunk once in a while, spitting a perverted comment without the risk of a thousand teenaged girls' eyes looking at him like he had just set fire to an entire nation…  
  
Just to name a few…  
  
Some people seemed to think that there was only one side of him—the enigmatic pretty boy with cute one-liners, a deep voice, and the ability to do cartwheels and backflips. His opinions were acknowledged more like jokes or wonders of the world than anything else depending on what he said or under what circumstance. It never mattered. Regardless of what tone he delivered them with, people were _always_ more mystified by him speaking up at all than they were interested in _what_ had actually just come out of his mouth.  
  
He had learned rather quickly that silence was sometimes just the better option. He walked away from most things feeling less degraded that way.  
  
Mark had grown to occasionally miss things that other people probably would never understand why or how he could miss them at all because they didn’t know what it was like to not be allowed to do something simple.  
  
Privacy, for example, was something that, though it wasn’t necessarily _too_ hard to understand why he could miss such a thing, he couldn’t even remember what it truly felt like. Mark had been sharing a room with another guy for so long that he honestly couldn’t remember what it was like to fall asleep submerged in complete silence or be able to fall asleep without the soft snores of another person just a few feet away… if he just so happened to be lucky to fall asleep _after_ Jackson for once, that is.  
  
Outside of sleeping, complete peace and being allowed a moment to think was nearly impossible and generally a rare occurrence when his roommate and best friend was one of the most talkative people that he had ever met in his entire life.  
  
But Jackson wasn’t the only pain in the ass. Beyond the confines of the room they shared, there were other frustrations to be found in the form of five other band mates, all of whom he found himself annoyed with once in a while. The feeling was mutual, he was certain. It was hard to live with other people and, at least in his experience, the more people there were, the easier and more likely one was to lose patience.  
  
Even just finding time to get off was next to impossible and something that Mark had, for some time, mourned over. In fact, up until more recently, Mark hadn’t been able to do such a thing whatsoever unless he went out of his way to do it half-assed while in the shower, during which he rarely even had time to finish. It was ultimately the most counterproductive thing to even attempt.  
  
It was almost general knowledge that there was somewhat of a time limit if he wanted to attempt jerking off in the shower peacefully or even successfully. He had to be quick about it and if he failed it was only even _more_ his fucking problem except it was both worse and something he would have to endure. When he or anyone else took too long, as they were seven _men_ , they would more than likely be well aware or at least be able to guess what was going down. Being a group full of guys, the comical flare that used to resonate around teasing someone for getting off in the shower had only lasted so long. Now, it’s not quite like anyone cares but more so no one is willing to wait.  
  
Attempting to do anything while Jackson was asleep at night—to go out of his way to leave the room all together in search of somewhere safer, or to go out of his way to exclude himself—seemed like way too much effort.  
  
He missed having options outside of his hand, which too was barely an option anymore since, as mentioned, he was barely even able to get himself off anymore considering the astounding lack of time.  
  
In retrospect, out of the many things that he was deprived of, technically, jerking off _could_ have been one of the smaller problems if he were like Jackson who didn’t give a shit about most things in that particular department. If he were like Jackson who was basically an open book, his sex drive being one of the things he was extremely open about, then he would probably have no problems whatsoever.  
  
But that wasn’t the case. Mark had more couth than that.  
  
Still, there were times when he got particularly frustrated, times where he couldn’t quite help but get a little cranky and annoyed with himself because the solution was apparent but his pride wouldn’t let him consider it. It was kind of embarrassing really—being the type that got cranky whenever he went too long without getting off properly—but, even then, there were also times where he craved more than that, namely the warmth—the _presence_ —of another person in a similar state as him.  
  
This is what he was talking about though. He missed simple fucking things.  
  
It didn’t help that the problem with Mark was that he was quiet during every other activity in life—excluding laughter for pride purposes— _except_ when he got off. Not to mention, Jackson seemed to be extremely easy to wake up on the nights where Mark was contemplating risking anything. The guy basically woke up at the slightest of sounds. The door cracking open, Mark getting up out of bed for a midnight piss-run, a mouse farting across the hall, a goddamn gust of wind brushing across their bedroom window and Jackson would stir.  
  
That could’ve been Mark’s annoyance and frazzled nerves talking, though…  
  
Sometimes Mark found himself resisting the urge to wail in childish frustration before inevitably deciding to sleep it off.  
  
Of course, most of those feelings didn’t really always apply, especially because things had constantly been changing for him, constantly confusing him or applying pressure in ways that he didn’t know how to handle but knew that he had to at least try.  
Sexual frustration aside, Mark could find other things to complain about—as he probably should despite the fact that he claimed that sexual frustration was a minor pain in the ass when in all actuality he could go on for hours complaining about it without repeating himself _too_ many times.  
  
For example, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been allowed to sleep in past nine o’clock in the morning. Schedules as an idol were extremely demanding and left little room for free time. It was sort of a running joke; free time was a myth. Any free time was often spent lazing around or sleeping because they were all always too tired to do much else. He could barely keep up. That being said, he knew that others had it worse.  
  
Whenever Mark thought about Jackson and all the schedules he had to keep up with, he often wondered how the other boy was still alive. Mark, as one of the other six individuals who lived with Jackson and saw him on a daily basis, was well aware that the boy seldom got more than six hours asleep. More often than not, he barely got three or four. What Jackson was running off of was a complete mystery to everyone. So, in a way, Mark sometimes felt bad about thinking so bitterly about the lack of free time to sleep or do miscellaneous things.  
  
However, that didn’t really stop him. Just like it never really stopped him to think about how annoying it sometimes was for him to not always get to see his family. Unlike other people, he couldn’t go home and see everyone just because of it was Christmas or whatever other holiday. Unlike other people, he couldn’t be there to experience certain things because his career was, in the most overbearing ways at times, priority.  
  
He tended to feel like he was missing things. Whenever he saw pictures of his family on any of his social media feeds, he felt like he should be there. Especially during birthdays, holidays, or weddings. Instead, he had to experience everything through pictures with the hope that everyone that otherwise expected him to be there or had ever expected him to be there before would understand. Sometimes it was stressful on his mentality but he tried hard not to let it get to him because any little crack in his armor could mean something disastrous for his career.  
  
If for one second, he let his emotions or worries show, there were simply too many eyes watching him at once. He had no room for that mistake to be made. There was no room for mistakes in general.  
  
Daunting broody thoughts aside, the lack of sleep obviously wasn’t the only reason for his exhaustion. He just wished there was more time to breathe.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark wasn’t alone in how he felt. Even though all seven boys often thought this way, they had never really talked about it. It was just another part of their job. There was nothing to talk about anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As Jackson was unlocking his phone and checking his text messages, Mark walked into the room, after which Jackson glanced up and spared the boy a bit of acknowledgement before turning his attention back to his phone.  
  
“Are you planning on joining the others for dinner?” Mark asked casually, his tone both gentle and even a bit hopeful.  
  
“No I was just going to stay in; probably catch up on some sleep.” Jackson replied, figuring that Mark was going to be going with the others for dinner and that he would finally have time to himself _but_ he supposed he would ask anyway for the sake of feigning interest. “You?”  
“I’m probably just going to stay here too.” Mark replied simply, obviously not seeing a problem with his choice as he plopped down on his bed before he began to look at things on his tablet.  
  
Jackson paused and blinked a few, which Mark couldn’t help but notice as he had just so happened to have looked right at him.  
  
“Why wouldn’t you go with the others?” He looked back to his tablet.  
  
“I’m tired too.” Mark shrugged. “We finally have time to just chill… Sue me for wanting to spend that time being a lazy bastard.”  
  
“Okay but you just asked me if I was going as if you planned on going…” Jackson pointed out, unable to help but let his annoyance show in his speech. “Now that I’m not, neither are you.”  
  
“…Why is it a problem either way?” Mark asked noncommittally.  
  
Jackson clenched his jaw and then sighed softly, during which Mark glanced up from his tablet a second time, stared at Jackson, and then sighed himself before locking and tossing it onto his bed, seemingly ready to get on with the inevitable.  
  
“What’s your problem?” Mark asked with his eyebrows furrowed.  
  
Jackson glanced over at Mark and stared at him blankly before he rolled his eyes and shook his head.  
  
“Nothing’s wrong with me.” Jackson replied reflexively.  
  
Mark sucked his teeth loudly, obviously not believing the younger.  
  
“So what’s with the attitude then?”  
  
“I don’t have an attitude.” Jackson insisted, locking his phone and tossing it off to the side before he turned his body and leaned back against the wall heavily.  
  
“Don’t lie to my face. I can hear it in your voice. Is me being in here a problem or something?” Mark pressed, looking mildly offended; he just hadn’t known that he had apparently done something wrong to deserve to be treated so coldly.  
  
“No...” Jackson replied hesitantly. “I’m just stressed.”  
  
“We all are.” Mark replied.  
  
Sighing heavily again, Jackson reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, paused, and then glanced down into his lap, something that definitely didn’t go unnoticed by the older of the two boys. Mark seldom missed much. He could sense that there was more on Jackson’s mind than the other boy was letting on, something that was probably something that he considered unworthy of acknowledgement but Mark knew that it was more often than not that the same topics that Jackson tended to think weren’t worth mentioning were actually the ones worth talking about after all.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mark asked, hoping that he wouldn’t have to try too hard for Jackson to tell him what was wrong.  
  
Jackson didn’t answer right away, he just proceeded to look down at his lap while playing with the fabric of his pants. When he did finally speak, he sounded a little embarrassed, which was something that Mark simply wasn’t used to seeing when it came to Jackson.  
  
“I’m… frustrated…” he trailed off, sighed loudly and then wiggled down so he was lying on his bed with one arm folded behind his head and the other hand resting on his chest lazily, “sexually frustrated.”  
  
“Pretty sure we all are.” Mark replied sympathetically. “Sometimes you don’t really know how people can get cranky when they go without something until you become one of those people. It’s hard.”  
  
“It wasn’t always this difficult… it became like this more… recently.” Jackson admitted. “I don’t know why.”  
  
“When was the last time for you?” Mark asked curiously, shifting a little so he could scoot down a bit further so he was lying down more, his head still propped up against the wall.  
  
“Five… fucking… months.” Jackson replied, eyes closing. “My birthday.”  
  
“Almost a year for me.” Mark huffed a laugh, smirking a little.  
  
“Damn.” Jackson replied, blinking his eyes open before he glanced over at Mark. “That’s a long ass time. How do you operate on almost a year without getting any?”  
  
“I think I just got used to it. It’s not like it’s easily accessible for us.” Mark replied, shrugging as he brought his leg up and propped it up a bit, letting it rest lazily against the wall. “I don’t know. A lot of the time I’m just too tired to think about it these days… other times I just get a little antsy. There’s really not much else to do about it. Not to mention, I have no choice but to get over it.”  
  
Jackson sighed softly and shifted against his bed, propping one leg up a bit as well while he took the arm that had originally been folded behind his head and draped it over his eyes.  
  
“It’s rough, man.” Jackson muttered. “I can’t take the frustration out at the gym, I can dance but not that well… I’m fucking distracted. It’s…”  
  
“The type of tension that only actual sex can fix.” Mark finished, at which Jackson just huffed a laugh and glanced over at him quietly.  
  
“Sounds kind of pathetic. It’s makes me sound like I’m some kind of addict and I’m feigning for a fix.” Jackson snorted, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
“Nah,” Mark shook his head, “honestly, it’s just one of those things for guys… I feel like we have a harder time dealing with extended periods without it.”  
  
“It’s stupid.” Jackson drawled, draping his arms up above his head lazily.  
  
“Find solace in knowing that you’re not alone.” Mark drawled, snickering softly just as Jackson let out of a bark of laughter, finding the other boy’s attempt at humor relatively successful.  
  
“Sometimes I wish there were these little interludes where I could pretend I wasn’t someone with a reputation to uphold, that being a fucking man with urges wasn’t liable to be so scandalous.” Jackson continued on to vent.  
  
“Mhm. You always have to worry if it’ll blow up or whatever. It’s not really worth the risk.” Mark agreed.  
  
Jackson nodded noncommittally despite his thoughts not necessarily being in agreement.  
  
“It gets to that point, though,” Jackson blinked, swallowing thickly as he stared up at the bottom of Mark’s bed, “it starts feeling like it would be worth the risk…”  
  
“Except for the part where, if you get caught, there would be a lot of blow back for you and the group to deal with.”  
  
“S’the dumbest part of our goddamn contract,” Jackson grumbled, reaching down to adjust himself, the adjustment making his hips squirm a little, “I hate it.”  
  
“I was just thinking about how much that part of the contract sucked the other day, to be honest.” Mark spoke up. “Funny… I was also thinking somewhat bitterly toward you. I always figured that you were so open about shit like sexual frustration that you had found a better way to cope than the rest of us.”  
  
“I live with six other guys and don’t care if any of them know if I jerk off because we all know we all do it anyway.” Jackson grumbled. “That’s not coping, that’s just choosing not to let my friends be another reason why I’m pent up all the time.”  
  
Mark chuckled, understanding a bit more. Of course, it wasn’t like Jackson had just given away a secret of some sort. He had had an idea of what the story was behind the apparent lack of fucks to give when it came to certain things. That didn’t mean that Mark could be like him… They were still two very different people in that way.  
  
“I get it.” Mark replied, still obviously amused.  
  
“Why are you so self conscious?” Jackson asked curiously after taking a moment to consider it. He had been attempting to decide whether or not he should ask.  
  
“I’m not really self conscious about that stuff. I know we’re all just a bunch of guys and, if nothing else, we have that particular thing in common but… I don’t know. I guess it’s just that I feel dirty doing it most of the time as it is and then most of the guys in the group aren’t the type to just let things go if and when they know something is up… literally.”  
  
“Which is exactly why you can’t care.” Jackson huffed, rolling onto his stomach as he pulled his pillow into his chest so he could hug it and rest his chin on it. “We’ve all known each other for a long time. I’ve seen everyone’s dick at least once and everyone has definitely seen every part of me both at its best and worst. We’ve been through a lot and I acknowledge it that way whenever I consider whether or not I should be wary about something. As far as I’m concerned, walking in on me with my dick in my hand is not the worst thing that can happen.”  
  
Mark smiled softly. He wasn’t sure why but there was this really nostalgic and comfortable feeling taking him over. It was strange but it felt a little like home. Despite the conversation between himself and Jackson being kind of silly, he felt comfortable at the moment.  
  
“I miss you sometimes. Just talking to you like this makes me realize we haven’t done that in a long time. Granted, we’re talking about being pent up but, well, whatever…” Mark spoke up suddenly. “Anyway, we should go out to get dinner. Just us… For old time’s sake.”  
  
“Old time’s sake?” Jackson chuckled. “You say that like it’s been a long ass time since we’ve gone out to dinner together.”  
  
“Just us?” Mark pointed out, raising his eyebrows. “Dude, I can’t really even remember the last time you and I went out and got dinner alone clearly. It’s been at least a couple of months.”  
  
Jackson groaned and buried his face against the pillow, kicking his feet petulantly. For a moment Mark thought he shouldn’t have asked. Especially when he had asked more primarily in the midst of being a little too sentimental.  
  
“I have to get dressed for that shit don’t I?” Jackson grumbled in English, reaching back to tug his phone out of his back pocket before he poked at the screen and swiped his finger around a bit.  
  
“Checking your packed schedule to see if you have room for me?” Mark teased, purposely making the sentence sound as bratty as possible.  
  
“No… I don’t have any plans but I did cancel on someone today because I was lazy and had my own plans to take advantage of everyone going out to dinner so I could stay home and get off comfortably without having to think about it… but since that’s no longer the case, I feel obligated to cover my ass _way_ ahead of time just in case they see me out and about when I said I wasn’t going to be. Do you know how evil people in our industry are if they think you just _don’t_ want to be friends with them? God damn.”  
  
Mark rolled his eyes and shook his head, stretching his arms lazily above his head before sighing and draping one of said arms across his face. He heard Jackson on the phone but he didn’t really pay much attention, too lazy to listen in long enough to figure out whom the other was talking to.  
  
After a few minutes, Jackson hung up and appeared to be poking at his phone again. Mark peeked out form under his arm and blinked at his friend.  
  
“You good?” He asked. “You’re not going to get jumped or anything?”  
  
“Nah.” Jackson shrugged. “I just made plans for dinner over the weekend after our schedules. This particular friend doesn’t care too much but I didn’t want to risk it.”  
  
“Sounds like Namjoon.”  
  
“It is.” Jackson sighed softly, tossing his phone to the side before he rolled onto his back lazily, tangling his fingers in his bangs. “I’m hungry and horny. This sucks.”  
  
“Welcome to being a K-Pop Idol where your dreams come true at the low price of your balls being a near constant and vibrant shade of blue.” Mark joked, sitting up, his hair disheveled. “Come on. Let’s go get food. I wanna eat my feelings.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“I feel so fat.” Jackson complained, hand against his stomach as they walked down the hallway back to their apartment.  
  
“That’s probably because you inhaled everything in sight.” Mark teased, pulling his keys out just before they reached their door, unlocking and pushing it open. “Between you and Jaebum, I honestly have no idea where you guys put it.”  
  
“I’m regretting it a little. It was delicious but holy fuck.” Jackson whined. “I wonder if this is what it’s like to be pregnant.”  
  
“Oh shut up.” Mark snorted a laugh as he kicked his shoes off by the door. “You’re a fucking weirdo.”  
  
The pair walked further into the apartment and glanced around, not really seeing anyone. “You think they’re still out?” Jackson asked.  
  
Mark glanced at the time on his phone and shrugged before deciding to call Jaebum. “It’s still only 9 and we’re off tomorrow so it’s quite possible…”  
  
“Yeah?” Jaebum answered after a few rings.  
  
“Where are you guys?” Mark asked as he slowly walked into his and Jackson’s shared room, pulling his sweatshirt off and tossing it onto his bed.  
  
“Just wondering around. We just got done with dinner like not even twenty minutes ago. We’re going to stay out for a while.” Jaebum informed. “The kids want to take advantage of the free time.”  
  
“Oh, alright.” Mark replied, reaching up to rub at his eyes lazily. “I’ll see you in the morning, alright? Probably going to head to bed soon. Get back safely.”  
  
“Good night, Hyung.” Jaebum speaks softly, sounding sincere. It comforts the older to hear it.  
  
Jackson walked into the room just as Mark hung up the phone and tossed it onto his own bed. He felt so lazy and drained. He was sure that it had a bit to do with the food they had eaten rather than just the long last couple of days that they had.  
  
“Going to bed?” Jackson asked.  
  
“I’m going to shower first and then probably sleep, yeah.” Mark replied, sighing heavily as he turned and knelt down to rummage through the dresser that had most of his clothes in it, seeking something to wear out of the shower.  
  
“Mind if we share?” Jackson asked nonchalantly. “If I don’t shower now, I’ll fall asleep while waiting and just not get it done.”  
  
Mark shrugged and walked out of the room, grabbing a few personal items along the way—his toothbrush, toothpaste and body wash—and proceeded on toward the bathroom, pausing to grab a few towels along the way, making sure he had one for Jackson as well.  
  
This certainly was not the first time they had showered together before. There had been a time where they hadn’t had a personal bathroom and they had all had to go shower as a group in a room that was just an open space with multiple showerheads mounted on the walls. This sort of thing didn’t really bother Mark anymore. It had bothered him for a while, especially when he had been insecure about his own body. He also had known of a time where Jackson had been insecure as well about the fact that he was a bit softer than everyone else. Nowadays, there wasn’t enough time to worry about things like that.  
  
Shit needed to get done.  
  
Mark was already undressed, in the shower, and washing his hair by the time Jackson came in to join him. He felt the heat of a body really close to his own as Jackson slid into the space behind him before sliding the glass doors closed beside them. After washing the shampoo out of his hair, Mark turned a bit and maneuvered Jackson to allow the other boy to have his turn under the stream of water while he worked conditioner into his hair.  
  
Mark eyes were on his own feet at first as he kneaded his fingertips into his own scalp. Jackson turned back around and tipped his own head back to rinse the shampoo from his hair to avoid it running into his eyes. While he waited, Mark supposed he could just wash the rest of his body, which is what he started on doing.  
  
As Mark was rubbing the body wash into his own skin, Jackson appeared to finish washing his hair out but he appeared to be looking for something. Mark immediately knew he had probably forgotten something.  
  
“Shit,” Jackson mumbled before glancing at Mark, his hair plastered to his forward, water droplets sliding down his chin, “can I…?”  
  
Not really thinking of it and also knowing what Jackson had forgotten, Mark just turned and reached for the bottle before handing it over to the other. After a moment or so, the pair shifted once more and Mark was allowed back under the stream of water where he first rinsed his hair out and then worked on making sure all of the body wash was rinsed off of his skin. As he did this, he just so happened to glance at Jackson while he was sliding his hands down his abdomen, hands and skin coated in foam.  
  
Of course, it didn’t really escape Mark’s notice just how much Jackson’s body had changed over time. He wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Jackson wasn’t quite as defined as Jaebum in the way of abs but he, in Mark’s opinion, definitely had a more solid and manlier build to him, which he knew that the other had worked hard to get. His arms were more muscular, his legs appeared fit, he had a very solid v-line going on and, really, it made Mark feel a bit like he was slacking. His own abs were coming in, slowly but surely, but he sometimes felt like his own body wasn’t quite as attractive to look at given how petite he was. He knew that he tended to reel in a lot of attention with his face but, again, he sometimes felt a little weird about his body.  
  
He wasn’t quite in the position, neither mentally nor physically, to show off his body with confidence like Jackson often did. He kind of wished he did but at the same time, he didn’t think about it enough nor did he make much effort—at least not these days—to change anything about it.  
  
Jackson’s body seemed like an unrealistic goal for himself so Mark just appreciated it for what it was—a nice body.  
  
As Mark was kind of observing a little bit, however, he noticed something strange among the expanse of perfect and smooth skin. There, across the other boy’s hip, was what looked like a small scratch.  
  
Mark reached forward and brushed his thumb across the blemish. “What’s up with that?” He asked.  
  
Jackson glanced down to look at the scratch, brushing his own fingers across it lightly to acknowledge what Mark was pointing out. He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not sure. I woke up with it yesterday, actually. Guess I did it to myself by accident in my sleep.”  
  
Mark only hummed in response. He turned around and washed away whatever soap was left behind on the front of his body before he faced Jackson and carefully stepped around him so that he could get out of the shower first.  
  
“Got you a towel too for when you’re done.” Mark informed, leaving one of the towels hung up on the bar just beside the shower.  
  
By the time Mark had dried himself off a bit and had tied his towel around his own waist, toothbrush in hand, Jackson had turned off the shower and was climbing out himself. Stepping aside to give the other boy a bit of room, Mark squeezed some toothpaste out onto the end of his brush and then stuck it into his mouth.  
  
“When did you start shaving, by the way?” Jackson asked curiously, tying his own towel around his waist.  
  
Mark had been brushing his teeth, scrubbing at his molars before he leaned forward and spit out some of the excess saliva and toothpaste into the sink, allowing himself the opportunity to reply.  
  
“A while ago.” Mark replied. “Probably a little while after that first time you shaved your abdominal hair.”  
  
“Any special reason?” Jackson chuckled, probably expecting some scandalous reasoning behind the choice to shave his pubic hair.  
  
“It’s cleaner like that.” Mark snorted. “I’m sure my reasons are similar if not the same as yours.”  
  
“It adds an inch.” Jackson replied seriously as the older continued to finish up brushing his teeth. “Looks better like that, to be honest.”  
  
Mark chuckled and leaned over the sink to rinse his mouth out and wash his toothbrush off. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected an answer like that but found that he wasn’t really surprised anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The intention to sleep had gone according to plan but Mark hadn’t actually been allowed to sleep for too long. He had instead woken up at a rather odd hour—his phone revealed it to be 3 A.M.—and it had been at the fault of a very untimely dream in which he had been painfully close to having one of the most intense orgasms in his life.  
  
Exasperated, Mark reached up and tangled his fingers into his own hair and clenched his jaw as he sighed heavily. It was such an annoying feeling to experience—being cheated by one’s dreams—and it had been happening more often. As though it wasn’t hard enough on a general basis.  
  
It was such bullshit.  
  
Mark glanced over at Jackson out of habit, hoping that he hadn’t been embarrassingly loud while asleep. He was relieved to find that the other boy was dead asleep, lips slightly parted with his cheek smushed against the pillow endearingly. Jackson looked so innocent while he slept.  
  
Sighing once more, Mark squirmed, feeling hot. The ache that was left over from the erotic dreams was something he could feel throughout his entire body. Between his legs, he could already feel stiffness.  
  
He shouldn’t… He really shouldn’t…  
  
Mark brushed his fingertips across the front of his basketball shorts, slowly tracing the outline of his cock before cupping himself. He could feel it in every muscle and bone in his body. His arousal was building and his tolerance for it was particularly low tonight. He could especially feel the ache in his hips as he palmed himself a little.  
  
_I shouldn’t…_  
  
Slowly, Mark hooked his thumb into the waistband of his pants and pulled them down, raising his hips a bit so he could get them below his hips. It was dark in their room but not so much so that he was unable to see anything at all. Upon looking down the expanse of his own body, Mark watched his hand touch his cock, biting into his lower lip as his fingers wrapped around the base, the heat prominent against his palm. He could already feel himself stiffening and he had barely done anything to himself yet.  
  
Tightening his hand, Mark stroked himself slowly, only really with the purpose of feeling out his cock and allowing the weight growing in his hand to drive his nerves even further out of order. Upon reaching the tip, he would trace the slit with his thumb, almost always provoking the urge to mewl but his breath would simply hitch instead—he needed to be quiet and he needed to remember that at all times.  
  
Fatigue had his body lax and his entire effort a little lacking but he was still sensitive with pent up arousal. Even the slightest of squeezes or tugs had him squirming. Had he not been tired and wanting to just get it over with so he could sleep, he may have been a little ashamed at how needy he felt.  
  
Regardless, like always, Mark let his eyes droop closed as he imagined someone else touching him. The person touching him was faceless but he imagined them to know exactly what he wanted. With confidence, the person in his mind wrapped there hand around his cock—the hand appeared a bit more masculine, his imagination having slowly leaned toward a specific gender—and squeezed, their thumb brushing over the tip.  
  
Swallowing thickly, Mark shivered and glanced down at his cock again, his imagination still running rampant despite him having opened his eyes. Mark began to stroke himself languidly, hand slipping from base to tip repeatedly as he imagined the unknown person touching him in all the ways he touched himself. Slipping his free hand down, Mark hooked his thumb into the waistband of his shorts and pushed them down a little as his hips shifted restlessly.  
  
Wanting to immerse himself a little further into his imagination, Mark’s eyes slid shut once more, imagining the hand touching him as he worked his cock. It wasn’t too long after that that lips had started mouthing the tip, during which his imagination didn’t hesitate to over do it by simulating what it would feel like—hot, wet, and erotic—as the boy tongued his slit while sucking the head of his dick teasingly.  
  
“What are you thinking about?”  
  
Mark jumped violently. Panicking, he tugged his pants up as he went wide eyed and looked over toward Jackson’s bed where he found the other boy looking right back at him. An overwhelming feeling of embarrassment crashed over him, chasing his arousal away almost instantly.  
  
“Oh my god…” Mark mumbled, pulling his hand away out of his pants before he reached up and covered his face with his arms, rolling over so his back was to Jackson.  
  
_I knew I fucking shouldn’t have._ Mark growled to himself mentally. _This is so fucking embarrassing…_  
  
“Mar—”  
  
“Please don’t.” Mark groaned, jerking his blanket up, his mood plummeting into the ground. “Just go to sleep.”  
  
There was a long pause, during which Mark had closed his eyes, attempting to ignore the embarrassment coursing through his body. He couldn’t believe that _that_ had just happened to him—it was the most rotten of luck and the worst part is that he knew it was likely to happen and he had still gone ahead and done it anyway. Jackson had always been the type to sleep through just about anything unless one was banking on it.  
  
He shouldn’t have fucking risked it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark’s muscles burned and he was sweating but at least he wasn’t really thinking about _the incident_ as he had taken to calling it. He had thought about _it_ —having been caught fucking _playing_ with his cock by his best friend who had not just woken up to seeing him but had saw everything for God-knows-how-long—and it was enough for a lifetime of embarrassment despite it having occurred over the course of just two days.  
  
He couldn’t really look Jackson in the eyes and he thought about how Jackson had probably gossiped about it to others. It was so embarrassing that Mark avoided Jackson to the best of his ability without seeming rude or cold. After all, he wasn’t angry at Jackson, he was simply embarrassed. There was a huge difference.  
  
It would have been a completely different story if someone had walked in on him and had caught a glance—that had happened before and it had been embarrassing for a hot minute but he had ultimately gotten over it—but this was a full on extended preview of sorts. What was primarily making it the most awful to deal with was the fact that Mark couldn’t remember if he had said or did anything that might have made things worse. He had been tired and aroused and such a dangerous combination could’ve had _anything_ escaping his lips… From a couple gasps and moans to actual words. Mark wasn’t sure but he had confidence that he was least afraid of the former when the alternative was the one that had the potential to reveal so damn much.  
  
For fuck’s _sake_ , he just wished he had simply ignored his dick and gone back to sleep.  
  
Sighing heavily, Mark stopped dancing and hung his head forward, realizing that he was thinking about it again. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose and squeeze his eyes shut, he groaned softly.  
  
He had had enough for the day. Now, all he wanted was a shower and food.  
  
“Get out of my head…” Mark grumbled, bringing the hand up from his face to drag his fingers through his sweaty hair before walking over to the stereo and turning it off.  
  
Blinking blankly toward the floor, Mark simply stood there for a moment before sighing in exasperation, breathing an annoyed _fuck_ before he went over to gather his things. Just after he was leaving and closing the door to the dance room, Mark turned and nearly ran into Jaebum whom had jerked his face away just in time to avoid a head on collision… literally.  
  
“Damn,” Jaebum teased, a small smile on his lips, “that could’ve ended poorly.”  
  
“Luckily it didn’t. Alongside all the other extremely annoying things I deal with on a daily basis, I can’t imagine adding angry fan girls onto the list because I accidently broke their Oppa’s nose.” Mark replied while stepping to the side to allow Jaebum to pass, assuming he had wanted to go into the studio.  
  
“No, no. I was just coming to see what you were up to.” Jaebum replied, jerking his head toward the direction from which he had come.  
  
“What do you mean? What else could I be doing in the dance studio?” Mark asked as he walked alongside Jaebum. “Or are you saying that you’re checking on me to make sure I’m not crying in a corner somewhere because someone once told me that my face is shaped like a pastry?”  
  
“I mean, that was an absolutely _savage_ comment… savage enough to at least provoke a minor case of PTSD but…” Jaebum teased, earning a small laugh from the older, “but no, you just seemed a little more antisocial than usual. Wanted to make sure everything was alright.”  
  
“Everything is fine.”  
  
Jaebum slowed his walk a bit, eyeing Mark’s face until the other had stopped and looked back at him as well. Jaebum wasn’t stupid—Mark had never heard someone even attempt to use such a word to describe Jaebum—and so Mark knew that his knee-jerk response wasn’t being received as a truth.  
  
“Nothing extreme is wrong. It’s a silly thing that I can get over myself. I’d tell you if it were something big… You already know that.” Mark amended.  
  
Jaebum cocked his head a bit to the side, considering Mark’s new approach before he appeared to accept it.  
  
“I won’t force it out of you, then.” He decided out loud, basically giving permission for them to start walking again.  
  
“What about you, Leader?” Mark teased amiably, nudging Jaebum’s arm with his own as they continued on down the hallway at a very slow pace.  
  
“Can’t complain today.”  
  
Mark scoffed. What a _Jaebum_ answer it was.  
  
Sometimes he wished he could think like Jaebum whom definitely did live life by the day. Things rolled off of Jaebum like water on a hydrophobic surface—it was something that not many people could genuinely do. In fact, Mark had never quite seen someone brush things off as easily as Jaebum could. The boy had a thick skin, a very headstrong personality, and a particular way of thinking that made him one of the toughest cookies Mark had ever encountered.  
  
Sighing heavily, Mark yawned a bit and then watched his feet as they walked. “Where’s Junior?”  
  
“He’s in the gym, why?”  
  
“Was gonna see if he wanted to go eat with me or something.” Mark replied easily.  
  
“Not asking me? What a rude hyung you are.”  
  
“You almost never say yes to me…!” Mark defended himself. “I ask all of the time and this is the one time I don’t. Are you serious?”  
  
Jaebum snorted a laugh and threw an arm around Mark’s shoulders, tugging him into a one-armed hugged. “Relax, you should know that I don’t care. I’m just messing with you.”  
  
“I hate you.” Mark grumbled in English, shrugging Jaebum off lightly whom only chuckled and continued on their way, turning a corner, which would eventually lead them to the gym.  
  
Youngjae had turned the corner just then, appearing a little put out.  
  
“Hey.” Mark greeted on reflex but the boy didn’t really say anything in response, merely nodded. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing…” Youngjae trailed off. “Junior is just being a bit of a crab today.”  
  
“And by crab you mean…?” Jaebum trailed off, hoping that the other would catch on and elaborate.  
  
“By crab, I mean he nearly ripped my head off for cracking a single joke.” Youngjae grumbled, definitely not amused and obviously offended.  
  
“Well, you guys shouldn’t fight…” Jaebum pointed out. “We were just heading to the gym anyway… maybe you should come along and we can address it.”  
  
“Nah, it’s not really worth it. I’m not upset at him—he’s just in a bad mood right now and I know it’ll subsid and then he’ll probably feel kind of bad about it like he always does. I’ll address it on my own if he doesn’t.”  
  
“… You sure?” Mark spoke up, not wanting to overlook something and end up leaving a friend out in the cold when they needed it the least.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Youngjae insisted, even smiling a little. “It’ll be fine.”  
  
Mark reached up and patted Youngjae on the arm, the gesture mirrored by Jaebum at his side whom still appeared a bit concerned but was comforted by the fact that Youngjae didn’t seem devastated. If anything, Youngjae seemed true enough to his word to not have to worry too much about it. After all, Youngjae had never been someone in the group to cause drama or hold grudges. He seemed to understand, nearly better than everyone else, that it was hard to just be happy all the time. Shittier moments were bound to happen.  
  
“Well… whatever happens, just remember that Jinyoungie has a lesser tolerance than the rest of us for silly things and that’s all it is. He never means for anything to be taken to heart.” Jaebum reassured, making the other smile slightly and nod.  
  
“I know… anyway, I’m going to go find Yugyeom or someone to make me laugh.” Youngjae announced, chuckling.  
  
With that, the other boy walked around them and continued on his way.  
  
As Mark and Jaebum approached the gym, Mark took out his phone for the sole purpose of checking the time. It was early on in the evening. As he slipped his phone back into his pocket and glanced up, Mark felt his stomach drop a little. On one of the treadmills along the wall, Jackson was shirtless and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat as he jogged consistently. His headphones were in and he appeared to be completely immersed in his run.  
  
Mark wasn’t quite sure he had many things to compare to how good his friend looked in that moment, which was saying something because it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Mark to acknowledge how good-looking Jackson is. It was more general knowledge than anything else but goddamn if he didn’t look especially good at the moment.  
  
“I wonder if he ever notices when you stare at him like that.” Jaebum commented, drawing Mark’s attention away from Jackson. “You’re not subtle.”  
  
“I don’t stare at him.” Mark grumbled. “And I have no reason.”  
  
“By definition—my definition—you are definitely staring.” Jaebum teased, seeming to find far more humor in the situation than Mark thought was fair. “And you definitely have a reason.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, and not really wanting to be bothered with his friend, Mark decided to just carry out the original reason for having come to the gym in the first place. Steeling himself, Mark opened the door and walked into the gym, making a conscious effort to not look over in Jackson’s direction again regardless of whether or not there was a risk of him getting caught looking.  
  
Mark wasn’t sure what Jinyoung had been doing before he had shown up but he was sweating a little bit and appeared to be a bit annoyed—probably at Youngjae because that was always the safest and most likely accurate thing to guess… alongside the fact that they had just intercepted the other boy moments before.  
  
“You’re not going to smite me where I stand, are you?” Mark asked as he leaned against a nearby wall, eyeing the other thoughtfully.  
  
“No… I just… didn’t get much sleep last night and… Youngjae is a far too playful today.” Jinyoung replied, thoroughly unamused.  
  
“Yeah, I heard… Jaebum and I ran into him on the way here.”  
  
Jinyoung exhaled exasperatedly and rolled his eyes a bit before flicking his hair away from his forehead. He leaned back against the wall with one foot resting against it as he sipped his water bottle nonchalantly.  
  
“So why were you looking for me?” Jinyoung asked.  
  
“I’m hungry.” Mark admitted, smiling cheekily. “You and I are going to dinner.”  
  
At this moment, Mark became aware of Jackson stepping off of the treadmill and glancing over at him but he pretended not to notice. Instead, he continued to look at Jinyoung and keep up the act that was _supposed_ to make it seem like he wasn’t bothered by anything. Turns out, such a thing was not possible with Jackson around because the other walked right over and inserted himself right into the conversation.  
  
“What are we talking about?”  
  
“Mark was demanding that I go and get dinner with him...” Jinyoung replied, “but I fully intend on taking a shower and turning in early tonight so he’s out of luck, I’m afraid.” “Well… I’m free…” Jackson replied, pulling both of his headphones out and wrapping them around his phone.  
  
“Oh really? Look how convenient, Mark!” Jinyoung replied simply, though Mark could not honestly say that he agreed. It left him sort of wondering if it would appear too rude or obvious if he objected to Jackson tagging along during dinner.  
  
“Mark?” Jackson’s voice cut through the air and pierced Mark’s ears abruptly.  
  
“Huh?” Mark replied, blinking owlishly.  
  
“Do you mind if I come to dinner?” He asked softly, cocking his head very slightly to the side and Mark could tell that he was being scrutinized.  
  
“Why would I mind if you come?” Mark asked casually, forcing himself to maintain eye-contact with Jackson to avoid the other reaching the conclusion that he was afraid or lying—that was the idea, anyway.  
  
However, the problem was this: Jackson was better than most at reading people and he could tell if and when someone was being fake. He was just never really vocal about it because he was in an industry in which it was literally mandatory to have a fake side. _Everyone_ was pretty much fake one way or another.  
  
Jackson stared at him for a moment, his eyes on the verge of burning holes into Mark’s skin. There was an extended and partially awkward moment of silence before Jackson’s features softened and he was the first to break eye contact. Mark knew he was caught. Fuck.  
  
“I—“  
  
“Let’s go.” Mark cut Jackson off, narrowing his eyes very slightly. “I owe you for the food last time, I’m starving and eating alone is weird… You’re going.”  
  
Jackson hesitated before walking over to the wall to grab his bag and shirt before following after Mark. They walked down the hall in complete silence for a few moments—Jackson’s foot steps were the only indication Mark had to know that Jackson was actually following him—before he slowed down a bit and glanced back at Jackson, waiting for him to catch up.  
  
“You’re so slow.” Mark commented teasingly.  
  
“You do realize that I have no intentions on sitting at dinner with you while immersed in an awkward atmosphere that you refuse to let me fix… right?” Jackson replied, ignoring Mark’s teasing.  
  
Mark groaned softly, complaining. “Seriously… can we not, right now? Fuck…”  
  
Jackson slowed to a halt and glared at Mark a little. “Then go by yourself, huh? How about that?”  
  
Mark stopped as well and stared back at Jackson stubbornly. They stood there for a short period of time and really, if this were an anime, there would have been a lightening bolt going off between their eyes. Mark really didn’t want to be the first to look away or even blink but he could tell that Jackson wasn’t going to let up either. He groaned and threw his arms up a little in frustration.  
  
“Oh, come on!” Mark grumbled. “I’m sorry I don’t want to sit here and reminisce about how you caught me with my hand on my fucking dick. Why can’t you just let me be embarrassed and miserable in peace?”  
  
“Because it’s not that big of a deal!” Jackson snapped. “You’ve been treating me like you want nothing to do with me at all because I saw you jerking off. So what? How many times have you seen me with my dick out? You’ve walked in on me in the middle of coming before… I mean—what the fuck?”  
  
“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’? I’m not you. I can’t just be totally at peace with that kind of shit.” Mark mumbled, shaking his head and leaning against the wall heavily.  
  
“I get that, alright?” Jackson sighed. “You’re not comfortable and that’s fine. I get it. I care a lot less than most people but come on, bro. It’s been a couple of days and you’re still acting like it’s that big of a deal. Big wow, you were jerking off and I saw it. I’m honestly more concerned with why you let me get in the way of you getting off on top of torturing yourself with embarrassment later. What’s wrong with you even?”  
  
“You also asked me what the fuck I was thinking about while I was doing it, Jackson.” Mark had stepped up to Jackson, their noses nearly brushing as he whispered in frustration, not wanting to risk anyone hearing. “Did you forget about that part or something?”  
  
“So?” Jackson scoffed. “So fucking what? That’s your problem?”  
  
“No.” Mark replied instantly. “I mean kind of… I mean… You know what? Whatever...”  
  
“You’re so strange.” Jackson complained. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I crossed a line. Even if I woke up, I should have never… I should have never acted so impulsively. I should’ve just rolled over and gave you your time.”  
  
Mark stared at Jackson for a moment before pressing his lips together in a flat line, his jaw muscles clenching. Now he felt kind of bad, which was even more odd. He sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his own nose lightly before gently rubbing his fingers into his own eyes. He felt kind of lame.  
  
“If it’s any consolation—not that I particularly think it _will_ be—but…” Jackson bit his lip, reaching up to rub the back of his own neck, “you looked really… really good like that.”  
  
Mark opened his mouth, an argument on the tip of his tongue… until the words that had just come out of Jackson’s mouth actually registered because… _wait…_  
  
“Excuse me…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **hello!** This story has been sitting here for over a year. That's really crazy to think that I had this thought to write this over a year ago and I'm finally letting people - other than the one it was written for - read it. As I said on the first page, this story is **_complete_** and I will be releasing the chapters every other Monday. So the next chapter will not be released next Monday but the following Monday - in two weeks. I'm doing this becase there are only three chapters and I'm kind of a butt when it comes to providing suspense. Releasing the chapters every other Monday is definite unless... something weird happens... (i.e. the apocalypse, everything explodes, etc.) Also, there is a chance that I go back on what I said and release it sooner like I did with this... This was supposed to be released on Monday ( **10-10-16** ) but then I was like 'fuck it'... and here we are. Whatever. I'll release more chapters when I feel like it I guess.  
>   
> Hope you like the story.~


	2. desecrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **NOTE** : This is not in anyway an emulation of how I truly think of GOT7 or any of the members! Don't worry, I love them all - this is just for the story. (:

**Mark stared at Jackson in complete disbelief** at what had just come out of the other boy’s mouth. Part of him resorted to assuming that he was hallucinating to make up for the fact that something he originally believed to be impossible had actually just happened anyway. In fact, he was certain that he was either hallucinating or Jackson was fucking with him. Either way, Mark was not about to be made out to be an idiot.  
  
“You’re so annoying.” Mark grumbled, turning to leave but then Jackson reached forward and gripped his wrist tightly. Mark turned and glared down at the hand on his wrist before looking at Jackson angrily, his jaw locked.  
  
However, Jackson wasn’t looking at him. He appeared to be glancing around carefully—down the hall on either end and down the one hall to their right—before tugging Mark away from the wall and down the same way they had come. Mark sort of felt like a rag doll for a few seconds before he decided to plant his feet and attempt to rip his wrist away but Jackson only held it tighter.  
  
“Jackson—”  
  
“Shut up for two seconds.” Jackson replied from over his shoulder, tugging Mark along against his will.  
  
A few turns and staircases later, he realized he still wasn’t aware of where they were going. It wasn’t until they reached a half-empty storage closet that Mark realized… he still had no fucking clue what was going on. The closet was musky and dark—the light above their heads was broken—and, if he were being completely honest with himself, Mark wasn’t scared but he was annoyed.  
  
“Why did you throw me into a jank storage closet?” Mark whispered angrily.  
  
“There aren’t cameras in here, okay?”  
  
“We live together, you idiot; we could’ve gone back to the dorm.”  
  
“This was closer.” Jackson argued. “Now shut up and let me talk.”  
  
Mark narrowed his eyes slightly before leaning back against the shelf of cleaning supplies behind him in surrendered. He realized that Jackson was probably going to be getting his way no matter what. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Jackson to start talking. “Go on...”  
  
“I’m not playing with you—I’m really not…” Jackson began, trying Mark’s patience. “I don’t want you to think I’m making fun of you. We’re close and we work together, I don’t want to risk anything stupid. I have a big mouth and I need to learn to keep some things to myself but… I feel like I need to explain myself without you running away from me or not taking me seriously. Also, I need your word that nothing said in this jank closet leaves this jank closet.”  
  
Mark blinked and stared at Jackson with a sincere lack of amusement before sighing in exasperation and dropping his arms in annoyance. “Yeah because the first thing I was gonna do was run and tell someone? Don’t be dumb. What is said here stays here—definitely—now spit it out.”  
  
Mark knew that he was being kind of mean, particularly because he was just irritable and he felt like he was being played with. Not to mention, the incident from the night a few nights back was fresh in his mind and fueling his poor mood.  
  
“Okay…” Jackson licked his lips and then winced slightly, probably at whatever he was thinking about saying next but Mark remained patient… although he wasn’t really that patient, he was more so pretending to be when really he was about four or five seconds away from walking out of the storage closet and leaving Jackson there by himself. “I’m straight as fuck… except for the fact that I’m not.”  
Mark blinked, staring Jackson hard in the face—he wanted clarification but he was too annoyed to actually ask. Luckily, it seemed as though Jackson could either pick up on it or he had been intending to clear things up anyway as the next words that came out of his mouth posed answers to some of the many questions Mark still had.  
  
“My preference is women but I like and or crave men… sometimes.” He cleared his throat, biting his lip. “Bisexual… I guess… but I’m insanely picky with guys.”  
  
“I gathered.” Mark replied monotonously, gesturing for Jackson to keep going.  
  
“The reason that night happened like it did is because—in short—I’m a complete idiot. It all played out so much differently in my head. Even though it was the more likely outcome, the last thing I expected was for you to shut down like you did.” Jackson admitted, biting his lip. “I kind of expected to end up in bed with you, if I’m being honest.”  
  
“What the fuck?” Mark made a face, not sure if what he was feeling was shock or complete disgust… oddly enough.  
  
“Don’t freak out—“ Jackson moved forward, gripping Mark’s arms but Mark pressed further back into the shelf a bit on reflex. “—I wasn’t being creepy… or I wasn’t trying to be. I just… I’m… I was just… I was thinking with my dick, okay? That sounds really weird, I know, I’m sorry, I just—“  
  
“You were thinking of fucking me?” Mark blurted, staring at the other boy owlishly.  
  
Jackson scrambled forward and slapped a hand over Mark’s mouth harshly, causing Mark to slam backwards into the shelves, his head knocking slightly against one of them. It resulted in a soft groan of pain leaving his lips but the hand clapped over his mouth stifled it. Mark opened his eyes and glared at Jackson in annoyance, his eyebrows furrowed. A brief moment later, he shoved Jackson away from him enough to free his mouth.  
  
This was ridiculous.  
  
“You were being a _pervert_.” Mark snapped.  
  
“I was not fucking—how the hell did you take _that_ from what I just said?” Jackson threw his arms up in frustration. “Have you heard anything I just said?”  
  
“Yeah. I did.” Mark replied, narrowing his eyes. “It’s been that long for you where you don’t care what kind of hole it is, you just want to stick it in to something?”  
  
“Oh my god, what the _fuck,_ Mark?” Jackson blinked, looking at the older in disbelief. “I have standards, you idiot. That’s not at all what I’m saying—“  
  
“You’re talking about seeing me touch myself and it making you think about you putting your dick up my ass.” Mark spoke slowly but his voice was barely a whisper anymore. “I can’t even describe to you how incredibly fucking weird that is.”  
  
“As weird as you thinking about a guy sucking your dick…?” Jackson spat.  
  
Mark blinked, his heart stopping in his chest, his pupils dilating and his mouth going dry.  
  
“Wondering how I knew?” Jackson asked, narrowing his eyes as Mark’s blood just continued to run cold. “I didn’t but your reaction just told me everything I needed to know.”  
  
Mark groaned and hung his head, resisting the urge to slap his friend—what a dickhead he was _indeed_.  
  
“You’re such a prick, you know?” Mark turned his head away, feeling ashamed. “And you’re still wrong. I don’t think of shit like that.”  
  
“Sure you don’t.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “Listen, I don’t really care what you think about. I’m not going to run off and gossip about you to other people or ruin your career over it. It is what it is. You know some pretty serious shit about me too… but don’t sit there and call me a liar when I know there’s something off about you. I knew on the first day I met you.”  
  
“Can you stop dancing around whatever it is you’re trying to say out of all this? Just skip to the point so I can go get something to eat and then crawl into a hole and die from sheer embarrassment, please.”  
  
“We can trust each other not to say anything…” Jackson swallowed thickly. “In hetero-speak: I’m attracted to you. We both have something to gain. I was thinking something like friends with benefits.”  
  
“Friends with benefits.” Mark repeated, staring at Jackson like he had two or three more heads than what was considered normal. “Are you insane? Are you not thinking about what happens if we get caught?”  
  
“We won’t get caught. It doesn’t really matter what anyone _thinks_. The fans always think the idols are fucking each other anyway.” Jackson went on to say, but it was clear that Jackson was kind of looking for reasons to convince them both along the way. “I mean, I’m sure some of them think it’s all true but none of them will ever know the reality of it…”  
  
“No offense Jackson but… you have the biggest mouth I have ever seen and heard.” Mark replied.  
  
“When have I ever opened my mouth about things I was told not to, though?” Jackson argued. “I talk a lot but I don’t talk about things I’m generally not supposed to. Especially shit that is no one else’s business. I’m not a gossip girl.”  
  
“Look, bro,” Mark huffed. “I feel for you, alright? I get it. I do… but I can’t. Many of the idols figure it out and they get through it just fine without fucking each other.”  
  
“I can’t name one off of the top of my head that doesn’t have at least one dirty secret. Even in our group.”  
Mark paused, his gaze flickering to Jackson because… _Um? What?_  
  
“… Oh… sorry. You were talking, go ahead.” Jackson cleared his throat, mistaking the look on Mark’s face for annoyance over being interrupted instead of slight shock over discovering that members within the group were likely fucking each other… or something like that.  
  
“Look, it’s whatever, alright? I’m not mad at you for asking…” Mark sighed. “Point is, I can’t do it… I shouldn’t. It just sounds like a bad idea to me.”  
  
The pair stared at each other for a long moment before Mark forced himself to walk out of the closet, leaving Jackson to himself. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Jackson’s proposition but he forced it out of his mind regardless.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark ended up going to get something to eat by himself—exactly how he hadn’t wanted to—and, despite his efforts, had thought about Jackson quite a bit while he ate. It wasn’t quite that he felt an overwhelming regret for saying no but… his feelings were peculiar nevertheless. It was like the feeling of knowing someone had feelings for you but it was someone you had never had feelings for in return beforehand. All of a sudden, Mark found himself wondering if perhaps he liked being desired by Jackson—he honestly wasn’t sure but he kind of… felt like he was leaning to _liking_ the idea. It wasn’t a disgusting thought but… Mark had always been the type to like attention.  
  
Early on in high school—and a bit in middle school as well—he had been desired quite a bit. He had grown up surrounded by one consistent opinion and that was that he was a very attractive. Such only became more noticeable in high school when he learned how to effectively scale his appearance by dressing properly and exploiting a personality that a number of people found attractive. However, Mark only had somewhere around three girlfriends throughout those years because he enjoyed flirting and he enjoyed even more to _hear_ praise. He liked listening and feeling someone getting attached to him but seldom would he ever return the interest. More often than not, he would just let it ride. Due to this, he had never really struggled for anyone he had wanted outside of the very last girlfriend he had had. He had genuinely liked her and had had to work for it quite a bit.  
  
It wasn’t even that Mark liked to play with people—he didn’t—he just seldom returned feelings toward those that gave him attention and in attempts to avoid causing people pain or in attempts to avoid making enemies, he would never fuel their flame toward him; he would just let them appreciate him.  
  
His career path had driven him and his last girlfriend apart. They had been contemplating waiting or remaining together in the backs of their minds but that had only gone so far. It was hard to ask for someone—impossible, even. Relationships that began in the flesh required a level of maintenance that was hard to provide from thousands of miles away. Mark had double odds against him given the fact that he was so far away, being a trainee at the time meant **zero** free time and time zones were flopped upside down.  
  
It was impossible.  
  
Jackson was nothing like that though. He was completely different and Mark wasn’t quite sure why he had thought so deeply into things to begin with. All he really knew was that he kind of liked that Jackson thought of him the way he apparently did because it was something he hadn’t been allowed to indulge in for so long… it had him thinking…  
  
Deep down, Mark knew that Jackson was telling the truth about the other idols. He himself had been given opportunities. There was a level of understanding amongst groups and members within said groups that could be felt out by those interested. Mark had never scratched the surface. He had gone home a few months back and slept with a girl in the states that he trusted. That had done it multiple times and she had yet to rat him out or do anything screwy with him so far so he tended to fall back on her whenever he absolutely needed that human interaction. They were close like that.  
  
The idea of getting himself into ‘the trade’ so to speak was a little unnerving. It was how things worked—he knew that—but it seemed a little scary, likely because it was his first time even considering it.  
  
That, however, didn’t keep it from sticking to his mind all the way home.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Mark returned to their shared room, Jackson was already lying down. He was awake and he was playing on his phone, appearing to be texting someone but Mark wasn’t sure. Mark tossed his stuff onto the floor beside their closet and proceeded to pull off his shirt. He felt kind of tired but he knew that he needed to get a shower out of the way before anything—he felt dirty knowing he had just been sweating his ass off a couple of hours earlier in the dance studio.  
  
Throughout Mark having walked in, walked out to get take a shower and returning, Jackson was still on his phone and he hadn’t looked up once. Mark kind of wondered if the younger boy was mad at him but he couldn’t find his voice or the nerve to ask.  
  
Mark crawled into bed in a pair of loose basketball shorts and a comfortably oversized t-shirt before curling up among his blankets and pillows. Sleep eluded him at first. He was tired but his eyes remained open and he continued to stare at the wall in front of him, listening to the silence that, for once, seemed abundant that night.  
  
The walls were faintly illuminated thanks to the light omitting from Jackson’s cellphone screen and so, for quite some time, Mark couldn’t help but wallow in the fact that the younger boy was awake and just not acknowledging him. It was odd and unsettling because Mark didn’t really know what it meant. He didn’t worry much often about behavior amongst members—they had been around each other long enough to gage on their own at that point—but it was hard not to feel a little odd with this one.  
  
He couldn’t shake the feeling and it was only worsened by the fact that he couldn’t seem to figure out whether it was something to worry about or not, which, by default, had him worrying anyway.  
  
It seemed like a half hour or so had passed before the light bouncing off of the walls disappeared and Mark could hear Jackson moving around. He heard the boy stand and moving around a bit. He heard the other plug his phone in before he became aware of the sound of clothes rustling. He imagined that Jackson was pulling his sweatshirt on—he had developed a habit of sleeping with one on recently. Mark allowed his eyes to slip shut as he pulled his blanket closer around him, waiting for his mind to go silent.  
  
Much to Mark’s surprise, he felt the other boy at his back not too longer later, pulling the blankets back and squeezing himself in. This wasn’t abnormal between them—both he and Jackson had been doing things like this since debut. They both lived extraordinarily far away from their families and it sometimes helped to be close to another body in order to get through the really rough nights. Up until this point, it had been an innocent and platonic coping method.  
  
Mark felt the arms around his waist and remained still for a while, shifting slightly when Jackson squirmed in his effort to get comfortable. He could feel the slight heat on the back of his neck from the other’s breath and couldn’t help but bite his lip when Jackson tightened his arm around his waist and pulled him into his body. It was comfortable and nice—Jackson had always been good at providing him with security.  
  
“I’m sorry for putting you on the spot earlier.” Jackson murmured against the back of his neck after having leaned in and pressed his nose against it.  
  
Mark remained quiet, his heart beating a slight bit faster as he looked at the wall in front of him despite not really being able to see it in the darkness of their room. He thought to himself for some time—if he was going to trust anyone… trusting Jackson was probably the best thing he could do. Jackson had never made any attempts to hurt him—or anyone, if he really needed to think back on it. Not to mention, the arms around him were doing plenty to make him regret his decision earlier. Mark considered that alongside what he was about to do briefly before he rolled over and looked at Jackson who was watching him in mild curiosity.  
  
Jackson looked back at him, seemingly expecting a discussion or perhaps something of a scolding but Mark had his eyes going wide in slight surprise with what actually came out of his mouth.  
  
Swallowing thickly, his breath labored. “We don’t _ever_ say anything about it afterwards.”  
  
Jackson briefly remained still and silent before sighing softly, his features softening as the shock wore off.  
  
“Who am I going to tell, Mark?” Jackson murmured in response, the question was obviously rhetorical.  
  
“I don’t know and I don’t care…” Mark replied. “How… how does this work?”  
  
“Anyway you want it to work…” Jackson replied—Mark could swear that he could already feel the heat building up under the blankets as he was rolled onto his back, the other boy’s hips between his legs. “Have you ever…?”  
  
“Once… I don’t remember it that well.”  
  
“It won’t matter.” Jackson replied confidently, hooking a hand around the back of Mark’s neck before tugging him in for a searing kiss, speaking roughly against his lips. “You’ll remember me.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
And Mark did remember. He could never forget what followed that night—the pain, the pleasure and Jackson in general. He remembered feeling so fucked out of his mind that Jackson had had to stifle him by the end of it. Even if there was a small chance of him forgetting—there wasn’t but for argument’s sake—the fact that it happened several times _afterwards_ over the following three or four months at random intervals would have certainly made it impossible to forget. Jackson himself could not be compared to anyone Mark had ever been with before… but that was why it needed to stop.  
  
Moments of lust turned into moments of passion where the end result stopped being an extraordinarily intense climax in favor of a heated kiss as they sought out their goal to release together. It stopped becoming something that just happened in the heat of the moment—they started sneaking glances, gestures or even full text messages _gunning_ for it. They started getting too bold, not quite caring what anyone around them thought or assumed. It was dangerous and Mark hadn’t noticed at first, too caught up in Jackson to really think about it.  
  
Jackson turned into something more than just a fuck or best friend—he turned into the single most consistent thought on Mark’s mind. In times of silence or boredom—generally whenever Mark had time to sit there and think—Jackson was in his head. If he wasn’t thinking back on their time together or them having sex, Mark was, arguably more dangerously, humoring thoughts that shouldn’t have existed in the first place. He imagined Jackson holding his hand during events, hugging him from behind or kissing his cheek in greeting in front of large crowds. He imagined Jackson kissing him during a heated moment on stage or doing something particularly risqué during a powerful choreography. He imagined them in public, on a date or something like that, doing all the cute things that couples tended to do during the honeymoon phase—the earliest stages—of the relationship. He imagined Jackson laying claim to him and calling him his boy openly… and it got his heart racing every time.  
  
When Jackson kissed him once without the intention to fuck him—when he had returned that kiss and had been left smiling like a dork—he realized that he needed to back-peddle.  
  
It hurt to know in his heart that such thoughts could never be and the pain got to Mark rather quickly. It became harder and harder not to react out of jealousy, harder to not say or do things impulsively that could strain their career. GOT7 was growing so quickly, gaining popularity so fast that it was hard for them to be sure how they should act anymore due to the fact that so many people seemed to know them. He couldn’t help but feel like he was playing a very dangerous game in which one simply couldn’t come out on top. In his game, this bullshit game he had been playing with Jackson, failure was inevitable—it was only a matter of when and how severely it would impact their lives.  
  
So Mark forced himself to pull back. He distanced himself a bit and, for the first few months, pretended it was nothing. He pretended like not feeling Jackson so close didn’t feel so unsettling. The thing about Jackson was that it wasn’t _he_ who had changed, it was Mark… Jackson just assumed that Mark was no longer interested or perhaps not in the mood and he respected Mark’s choice even though the older—he would never admit it—secretly hoped that Jackson would go against him and fight for it... but he knew Jackson wouldn’t because he wouldn’t want to risk Mark feeling overwhelmed or forced into anything.  
  
Mark attempted to reason that it was for the best—this was all for the best apparently—but the fact of the matter was… Mark wasn’t handling it as well as he would have hoped. Instead, he secretly took his feelings out elsewhere. The second the three-year restriction was up, Mark was tempted to alter his behavior and he let himself cope a bit more openly. He avoided disrespect and often only interacted with those with similar interests as his own and he just let it be. Eventually, Mark—at least among some idols—became a little more than a pretty face. He got around a bit. Despite so many attempts to clear his thoughts, the sad part really was this: he always came back to Jackson because there was no one and nothing like him.  
  
That didn’t keep Mark from trying. Anyone else might be hurt by now, disappointed and reluctant to bother trying any further with how many failures he had experienced. However, Mark could do nothing else. Jackson and every other member thought that it was sometimes the fault of someone else. Though he felt guilty, Mark had no intentions on correcting them… The truth was too much to deal with.  
  
The truth was… Mark would rather fuck around with other people than fuck around with Jackson and be constantly reminded that that was all he was: a best _friend_ and a tight ass for Jackson to fill… He wanted more.  
  
More than what Jackson could give.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark really doesn’t have it in him to hear this right now. It’s 2 AM on a Sunday; he’s sore, hungry, cranky, and all he really wants to do is eat his bowl of cereal so he can crawl into bed and hibernate for at least twelve hours on a day clear of schedules.  
  
As a twisted alternative, he’s being lectured and the continuous nagging coming from Jackson is really starting to do his head in. The fact that he’s dead tired both mentally and physically is probably the only reasons he hasn’t really said anything—if he does, it’s minimal—and at this point he really is just letting the younger get it out of his system; he figured it was only a matter of time before Jackson would give up on his tangent, pity him, and leave him alone. In the mean time, everything Jackson said sort of went in one ear and out the other for Mark.  
  
Inevitably, the older boy only occasionally caught bits and pieces of what was being said to him but, aside from that, Mark ended up instinctively tuning out the majority of what Jackson may or may not have had to say.  
  
Unfortunately, Jackson, as he usually did, eventually noticed that Mark wasn’t in fact listening to him and thus the tactic was destined to have only succeeded for so long. It was particularly clear when Mark provided absolutely no signs of having registered a single thing that he had said. Not to mention, Jackson and Mark had been friends far too long for the younger to not know the difference between a Mark that was actually conscious of him and what he was talking about to a Mark who had stopped listening to him completely.  
  
“I’m running my mouth for no reason.” Jackson griped, at which Mark blinked and swallowed his mouthful of cereal before he looked up at the younger.  
  
They were standing in the middle of the small kitchen of their shared apartment, leaning on opposite counters, and both doing so with completely different motives. Jackson was playing his mommy card and Mark just wanted to eat his cereal, which he didn’t think was so much to ask. Despite that, he sagged against the counter submissively.  
  
“I’m listening.” Mark said gently, feeling very much like a child. In fact he couldn’t really remember the last time he felt like the older between the two of them.  
  
“I’m only saying this because I care about you. All he does is run you around. Doesn’t it seem just a little fucked up that you guys have been doing this shit for almost a year and you have the most to lose but he has no problem calling you over in the middle of the night for a quick fuck?” Jackson asked; Mark really wished he had been zoned out for that bit too.  
  
Mark swallowed hard and plunked his spoon down in his bowl; what little appetite he had had was lost. Now his stomach was just in knots and he felt sick. If Jackson was trying to make him feel bad about himself, he had definitely succeeded because the older boy was feeling pretty low. Knowing Jackson—which Mark knew the younger better than anyone—he hadn’t meant it like that. That didn’t mean Mark didn’t take it that way, though.  
  
It wasn’t like what Jackson was saying wasn’t true or that Mark wasn’t aware of the situation. It was the fact that the younger was right in everything he was saying. Mark had been running around with a guy more consistently from one of the lesser known groups for quite a long time; about two months that upcoming week. They had been through a lot together and for longer than Mark had ever been with anyone of the others he had decided to mess around with. Usually it was a one time thing but this one… Mark had kept around a bit more because he was somewhat closest to what he desired.  
  
Ironic then that what he desired was literally a foot or two away and yet, in a matter of speaking, was miles from where he wanted him to be.  
  
Mark had been blind and naïve enough to think that there was going to be a part in all of this where he ended up happy but so far it seemed like that was the most comical and unrealistic part of his entire tragic ‘love’ story.  
  
He had sort of just assumed that if and when two people were together for long enough, things sort of fell into place and from there it was meant to just go on. Admittedly, he had thought it was normal in the beginning for the other boy to be paranoid of being caught in a relationship with another guy out in the open, had even defended him when Jackson called him out on his shit from the very beginning but it wasn’t long before even Mark had no argument because the guy was acting out of paranoia, he was acting with a lack of respect. It was around the middle of the second month when he realized that he needed to stop lying to himself. Two months was a long time in Mark’s world and the fact that his boy toy had him in a place where it was his way or the highway seemed a little telltale. However, it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. What bothered him more was the fact that Jackson knew and felt the need to ‘protect’ him.  
  
It had Mark wondering if it was because the guy was embarrassed of him as a person or just the fact that they both happened to have dicks in their pants. Over the last few months, Mark had learned the trade quite quickly and it was simple: it was _easy_ to find out who was down to fuck and who couldn’t be touched. The guy he had been messing around with had been considered untouchable until, well, Mark found himself bend over a bathroom sink with a dick only _vaguely_ smaller than Jackson’s knocking the breath out of his lungs.  
  
To be even more painfully honest, it could have been both of those things along with many other reasons that came together and made the guy thoroughly against investing in Mark openly for all he knew. How could he know for sure? Maybe he _was_ untouchable but Mark brought it out in him. It wasn’t like they actually talked about those things. The more Mark was forced to think about it, the more he realized how much of a business transaction he and this dude he was running around with were. It was always about sex or hanging out late at night when it was less likely for either of them to run into people they knew, more so he than Mark but it wasn’t Mark who was trying to hide. To not want anyone to even think they were _friends_? Mark had to admit, that was suspicious.  
  
There used to always be that small part that hoped they’d run into people they knew, especially when they were a little too close so he could act like he wanted in front of people he knew would be okay with it. He had always figured that maybe it would encourage the guy to just come out and they could be, well, more or at least something better. It turned out, when Mark had finally gotten his wish, it hadn’t encouraged anything other than severe disappointment.  
  
Mark did not classify anything that they had ever done as a date to begin with—dates didn’t really happen. He never counted the times where he and his boy toy may have gone off to the movies alone once or twice because on both occasions something had happened that completely ruined the night for Mark. It included this one time his ‘friend’ was spotted by someone he knew and Mark spent the entire fucking movie two rows away from them to stick to the illusion that they didn’t know each other. That was when Mark stopped wishing they would run into people and probably even when he stopped expecting much of anything at all. Any time they had gotten ‘dinner’ together it was cheap fast food and more often than not involved Mark giving head in various public places to fulfill some ironic thrill of getting caught even though they always made sure there was no way. They primarily chose playgrounds or behind buildings due to their lack of light source. He had even allowed the guy to talk him into sucking him off in a grimy bathroom at a fast food restaurant once. There was nothing glamorous about who he was screwing with.  
  
The guy wasn’t Jackson—he had gotten that into his head by now.  
  
It was always about being in the dark. It wasn’t like Mark hadn’t made a fuss either, especially over that one time in the movie theater. It all just ended the same way. They would fight a little and then somehow Mark would end up bent over something or on his back and then looking stupid as fuck walking home at three at the morning and barely alive during schedules the same day afterwards.  
  
“Mark.”  
  
Mark looked up, realizing that Jackson had been trying to get his attention. The younger looked annoyed at first but the expression was gone seconds later, replaced with an infuriatingly patient and gentle look. To be honest, Mark would prefer Jackson yelling to that look. It was that typical ‘man you’re so fucked but I’m here for you if you want to cry’. Mark was not about to cry.  
  
Fuck that.  
  
“I’m your best friend, dude. I’ve known you forever. I know what happiness looks like on you and I haven’t seen you genuinely happy in a long time. You’re—“  
  
“I get it.” Mark snapped, silencing whatever pitiful speech Jackson was about to bestow upon him; there was nothing worse, at least in Mark’s opinion, than feeling like absolute shit and then being thrown a pity party by the source of why you’re miserable.  
  
They stared each other down for a moment before Mark sighed and put his bowl of now-soggy cereal on the counter behind him so he could reach up and rub his hands over his face tiredly and through his already messy hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and licked his abused lips, still able to feel the ghost of _his_ teeth on them.  
  
“Just stop. I know.” Mark muttered, appearing to be speaking to his feet.  
  
“I’m sorry... I know it’s not what you want to hear—“  
  
“Yes because you know so much—you know everything, yeah?” Mark mocked, picking his head up and glaring at Jackson. After being forced to think about everything; Mark really was in no mood to be patronized. “Well if you know everything then tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it? What would you have me do, Jackson?” The sudden outburst had caused Jackson to startle a little, especially because Mark had literally said next to nothing since he had gotten home and now that he had finally spoken up it was as though Jackson was the enemy.  
  
Jackson blinked. “I’d have you pull your head out of your ass so you can focus on your own happiness instead of wasting your effort on a someone who pretends he doesn’t even know you outside of his bedroom.” Jackson replied back instantly, his gaze harsh.  
  
“As if my happiness actually matters.” Mark grumbled.  
  
“I mean it fucking should. Is this what he’s made you think? What are you just his little whore now?” Jackson’s question made Mark wince a little. “How can you think that what you’re doing now is easier than finding someone who will treat you the way you deserve?” Jackson asked then, appearing to be encouraged to go on when Mark had no response to his previous question. “That’s not how this shit works.”  
  
“And what would you know, huh? How do you think this ‘shit’ works? What do you think we hold hands and share shy smiles over ice cream cones and a walk in the park? Do you think we confess undying love after every fuck? Do you think we’re supposed to send each other cheesy text messages all day and giggle like a pair of schoolgirls? Tell me; what do _you_ think _love_ is, Jackson? What is love supposed to be in our world?”  
  
As expected, the younger didn’t have a snappy reply for that one. As close as Jackson liked to remind Mark that they were, evidently he also seemed to forget that that went both ways and that meant that Mark knew that Jackson had never experienced love before. Jackson hadn’t even been in a relationship longer than four months yet and the last time they had talked about what ‘love’ meant, they had been trainees, virgins, and not yet victims to harsh reality. So Mark knew that Jackson’s definition of love was immature and too heavily influenced by things that simply didn’t happen in real life relationships.  
  
“I know that it’s not supposed to be like this.” Jackson replied finally.  
  
Mark just stared at him for a moment before shaking his head and rubbing his hands over his face again, dropping his arms to his sides. A patronizing smirk spread across Mark’s face.  
  
“You know what? I really hope that no one comes along and rips you out of your little fantasy world too soon but as your friend I feel obligated to warn you that you’re in for a rude awakening.” Mark said with a humorless laugh. “’Cause I gotta tell you; you don’t know shit about love, baby boy. Love hurts. It fucking kicks the shit out of you and laughs in your face every chance it gets. It’ll take you sky-high and then rip you back down in an instant and you know what? It doesn’t care how much it hurts or how much you beg it to stop hurting or how hard you wish for it to just go away. ‘Love’ likes it best when it has you at your worst.” Mark explained, feeling a little bit like an emotional woman crying in a really bad drama. “So go ahead and hype your idea of a love that doesn’t exist, GaGa. Go right ahead.”  
  
Then again, his life was a really bad drama. The fuck did he care at this point?  
  
“ _He_ hurts you. _He_ is bad for you.” Jackson corrected, staring at Mark in such a way as though he hoped the older would see it his way if he put enough emphasis. “You’ve lost part of you for him; real friends that loved and care about you and we try to push you toward being happier but you don’t let us. You get mad and cut people out of your life instead. You sacrificed so much for him and yet you have nothing but a fucking hickey to cover up and a sore ass tanking your performances to show for it.”  
  
Mark swallowed thickly, his vision wavering a little.  
  
“You don’t even get to go around and say you know him let alone that you’re friends with him—if one can even call whatever you guys are doing ‘friendship’. It’s more like him having a free hole to park his dick whenever he feels like it. You get to sit back and feel like dirt.” Jackson continued and Mark just clenched his jaw, his entire body tense.  
  
“You get to crawl into my bed and cry on me when it hurts too much. You get to go out in the middle of the night and come home four hours before schedules because he doesn’t want anyone to know about you. You think I don’t notice. That’s not how lo—“  
  
Mark moved forward. Before Jackson could even react, Mark had him shoved back against the counter, holding him there with his hips while his hands gripped the edge of the counter on eithers sides of him, caging him in. Jackson stared at him with dark eyes and though there was no fear there, Mark could feel the rest of his body trembling… but it wasn’t fear that Mark sensed. He wished it was so he could hate himself less.  
  
“ _Shut. Up._ ” Mark demanded, his voice low.  
  
Jackson’s stare hardened and the trembling lessened. “Or what? Are you gonna throw me away as well just to keep him around? You’re running out of people to do that too, Mark. There’s only a hand-full of us left. Who are you gonna run to if I’m gone?” Jackson scoffed. “I’m one of the only people that never demanded anything from you. I’m one of the only people that has never tried to hurt you even though I know exactly how to.”  
  
“Am I supposed to be grateful that you’re being so fucking considerate with my weaknesses?” Mark asked, causing the other to glare at him a slight bit more harshly.  
  
“I swear—sometimes you’re such an ungrateful little bitch. You’re so blind. _So_ fucking blind.”  
  
“Am I?” Mark snorted, a sarcastic smile on his lips even though it was evident that he was unamused at the accusation, especially with the way his eyes narrowed and his head cocked a little to the side as though visibly enlightened by just how delusional the younger boy was or must be.  
  
Jackson shoved him way, eyeing him with a mixture of contempt and anger. Mark knew he was in for it but he was too pissed off himself to cushion the blow. With how fucked up everything had been over the last few months, there was a part of him that couldn’t help but want to open his arms wide and taunt Jackson as though he were an irritated bull. Maybe if Jackson showed his true colors, maybe Mark could get over it all and get better.  
  
In the heat of the moment, such sounded like a decent plan. If Mark had just taken a moment to stop and think though, he would have realized that making Jackson feel like nothing was the exact opposite of a good idea.  
  
“Come on, GaGa.” Mark taunted. “You have shit to say so say it. Don’t be afraid to hurt me. Let’s hear what the oh-so perfect Jackson fucking Wang really thinks.”  
  
“Wow… You say I’m full of myself but have you seen what they all say about you? You’re a fucking _runt_ ; that’s all you are and ever will be—even the fans see it. You have no talent, you can maybe pass as a dancer but you don’t fucking stand out, you’re tone-deaf, and—on top of that, as if it’s even necessary to point out anything else—you have absolutely zero interaction with people if you don’t intend on sucking their ass. You’re just here because of your face. I mean shit; did you suck a few dicks just to get here too? I wouldn’t put it passed you. It doesn’t really make sense any other way.” Jackson replied, his voice callous; the younger didn’t even bother to yell, he just spoke almost eerily calm and casual.  
  
It was like it didn’t matter as long as it got through to Mark; Jackson thought that he was a piece of shit. It hurt… and it should’ve been everything Mark wanted. It should’ve been enough. Mark should’ve quit while he was ahead—he could feel it—but Mark found himself in Jackson’s face, their breath mingling instead.  
  
“My face never stopped you did it Jackson? Don’t you look at me too? Everyone fucking looks at me. You’ve felt me, though. Don’t you remember how you used to tell me how tight I am? How good I feel taking your cock? How good I look when I cry for you to _please please please let me come, Daddy_?” Mark spoke up, swallowing thickly to force down his nerves but the look that Jackson gave him made him want to curl in on himself; it was like the other couldn’t possibly hate him more. “You’re just like everyone else. At least I own up to my shit. I know I can’t sing, I know that I’m not the greatest dancer, and I fucking know that everyone pays attention to me because of my face but at least I know what the deal is and why I’m here. You think everything revolves around you; you think that our entire group fucking lives because you’re in it. Newsflash, you egotistical fuck, you are nothing without us; we are why you get to sit there and play King high up there on your pedestal without someone coming along to knock you down.” Mark paused, resenting the way his body and voice trembled with even more anger than before. “We keep you here.”  
  
“Is that what you tell yourself? We? Who is ‘we’ because, as far as I knew, ‘we’”—Jackson gestured vaguely around the entire room, referring to the rest of the group despite them not being present—“doesn’t mean you, Mark. We would still be ‘we’ whether you were here or not; you have nothing to offer and you excel at nothing but you’re still willing to risk everything you have just for some mother fucking—”  
  
“I never said I was something; I never claimed to be where I am without help. Not for one second do I ever think that I don’t rely on this group more than anyone else. Every day I am reminded that people younger than me are why I get to do this for a living; people younger than me keep me afloat—that is something that I know for a fact and am constantly aware of. You forget all the time. One thing goes wrong for you and you turn your back on everyone; you get on stage, you act on your own, and we have to make up for that. The fans may never pick up on what you do but we all see it; the entire group feels the disrespect and none of us deserve it…” Mark glared, growling angrily. “You do all kinds of shit too and yet you reprimand me for having someone to run to?”  
  
“Fuck you.” Jackson seethed. “I would be fine on my own; it’s you who would be nothing. I carry you especially, Mark. Everyone in this group would survive if it all stopped here but you would be back home in L.A., on your knees somewhere letting someone come down your throat just so you could feel desired again because you’d miss being wanted for doing _nothing_. You’re not even the type of whore to do it for money; just the attention would be enough to feel relevant. Daddy would take care of everything else, right? All you are and ever will be is a runt. When this is all over you’ll be nothing but a tight little hole for someone to stick it whenever they feel like it. You’ll do whatever you can to make it work like you did with this dickhead you’re with now—like you still do with him. You don’t even have the decency to play hard to get. You’ll be lucky if you have anyone at all soon enough.“  
  
Mark could feel the anger bubbling up inside him at what Jackson was saying, specifically because he just didn’t want to hear it from him and there was a huge part of him that knew that the other boy didn’t mean a single word. That and it was the way he was saying it; like he expected this from Mark. Something in Mark warned him again to back down right there, to put space between them so they could breathe and cool off and then talk later but Mark wanted to spite Jackson for having the nerve to hurt him intentionally. Yes, he had provoked it and he should’ve been able to swallow what he had gotten but he couldn’t. He wanted to dig his claws in and rip and tear because that was what it felt like Jackson was doing. It was like the younger boy was pressing his buttons, trying to get his point across by playing dirty. It was working.  
  
Mark’s hand whipped out and cracked against the side of Jackson’s face in the mother of all bitch slaps, effectively silencing the younger boy whose head snapped to the side.  
  
Jackson reached up and touched his cheek lightly, working his jaw a little as he tasted blood on his tongue because yeah Mark had definitely gotten him pretty good. When Jackson managed to pick his head up in order to look at the older boy, Mark’s jaw was clenched, the muscles flexing visibly as he glared hatefully with eyes welled nearly to the brim with tears; that was when, as shameful as it sounded even to himself, Jackson really realized that he had let his anger take him too far and he had just walked all over something that hadn’t deserved it whatsoever.  
  
Jackson opened his mouth to speak but before he could, there were hands around his throat and lips pressing hard against his. Mark was numb, his mind blank, his actions fueled by something primal. Mark shoved Jackson back harder and braced a hand around the boy’s throat to assert where he wanted him, the other reaching up and tugging his hair slightly as he smashed their lips together in what could only be described as a brutal and painful kiss, one that had Jackson trembling, moaning sharply, and grabbing at Mark’s hips almost desperately.  
  
Suddenly, Jackson could feel Mark’s lips trembling and it made his heart plummet into his stomach; they weren’t his own lips trembling. After attempting to blink his eyes open to see only to realize that the older boy’s face was too close to see anything clearly, Jackson wrapped his arms around the small of Mark’s back and held him in place, only being allowed to do so for a split second before Mark tightened up again, claiming dominance, growling lowly. The growl, however, broke off into what could have been—what definitely was—a whimper.  
  
It made no sense.  
  
Jackson didn’t need Mark to be kissing the life out of him for him to know that he had fucked up, in fact he would have preferred nearly any other course of action that might’ve read differently. This, however, read as something that Jackson didn’t really want to acknowledge. The kiss, for the time being, despite obviously being fueled by negative feelings, did not feel angry so much as it felt like what he would imagine a last kiss to feel like.  
  
After a short delay, one filled with uncertainty and confusion, Jackson realized what Mark was begging him for and felt his heart sink; he immediately regretted it all that much more. Mark was begging for the Jackson he knew, the one that would never say all those things that had obviously cut deeper than intended, the one he would do anything for, the one who he gave everything to without asking for anything in return.  
  
Jackson felt his heart continue to sink as though being weighed down by several thousand anchors until Mark finally jerked back and glared down at him with watery bloodshot eyes, looking very much so like something in him had just died and he was currently looking down at the one who was responsible; maybe it was because he actually was. Either way, Jackson watched the hate bleed into the older boy’s eyes and knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.  
  
“I’m so—“  
  
“So what’re you saying, GaGa? You wanna leave? You wanna use what you know against me? You want to hurt me now too, huh?” Mark seethed suddenly as he pressed his body harder up against Jackson’s, pressing their foreheads up against one another so their bangs mixed together but only for a split second until Mark was tilting his head and licking Jackson’s lower lip, pressing an open mouthed kiss to it sloppily. “You want to hurt me?” Mark growled against Jackson’s lips. “Come on, Jackson. Hurt me. I know you’re good for it... why don’t you hurt me so bad, I’ll never forget it. I know you can do it better than he can. You’re so good—he could never do it like you can. _Give me something I can never forget, Daddy._ ”  
  
It took all of just a couple of seconds before Jackson found it in him to react, planting his feet as he brought his hands up to Mark’s chest before he shoved the older boy away from him so hard that Mark’s lower back hit the counter opposite to Jackson, which caused everything on the counter top to displace a little.  
  
At first Mark glared at the younger coldly until he noticed the look on Jackson’s face. Jackson’s eyes were wide and watery, his lower lip shiny from Mark’s spit. His breath was labored and his posture was tense; Mark had never seen him look quite like that before. It was as though he had just watched someone die right in front of him but really, Jackson just couldn’t handle what had just happened. He couldn’t believe what he had just hurt. He couldn’t find it in himself to handle it. The amount of pain constricting his chest and the thorough disrespect was overwhelming—he could barely breathe.  
  
It wasn’t until Mark watched a tear spill from one of Jackson’s eyes and roll down his face that he was really aware of what he had done; what he had just spat in the face of. Mark may be one of those people that were a bit dense and unaware of certain things but this was impossible to miss. When he had craved so deeply to see it before, he hadn’t. Now that he was seeing it, he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to backtrack over what he had just done.  
  
It made so much sense all of a sudden… why all the nagging and the worry. Mark hadn’t thought much about it all before, especially because they were best friends but he had never bothered to really look either. All those times he ended up crying on Jackson’s shoulder only for the younger to take care of him without a second thought. All of those times he had needed someone it had always been Jackson to show up, no matter how late or what sort of weather. All this time, Jackson had been doing everything he was looking to his boy toy for and the worse part is Jackson always done it. Since the first time they had even spoke, Jackson had been his crutch and he had done it all without asking for anything in return.  
  
Mark had so much right in his face that he had never once had to get on his knees for; Jackson loved him.  
  
To say that Mark hoped that he was wrong, that Jackson didn’t actually love him, would be a blatant lie… Mark had wanted Jackson. He had settled for less but had always wished to see, to know that Jackson felt for him similarly to how he felt for the younger. Now that he was aware of it, however, he was witnessing the emotion deteriorate right before his eyes, being rapidly replaced by something polar opposite; something far colder.  
  
Something he didn’t want.  
  
Mark swallowed thickly.  
  
“Jackson,” he muttered while touching Jackson’s arm but the younger ripped away from him and left the kitchen.  
  
Suddenly, Mark’s chest was tight and he could feel fear constricting him all over. How could he have just done that to Jackson of all people?  
  
“Jackson—wait…!” he said frantically, moving to follow the younger who stopped short and turned to face Mark with a look unlike the older had ever seen before.  
  
“I want you out tonight. I don’t give a shit where you go or who you fuck to put a pillow under your head but you’re dead to me.” Jackson seethed huskily, his expression cold and detached.  
  
It wasn’t like they had never fought before. After being friends for so long, fighting was inevitable but never had Jackson looked at him like that. Never had he said anything remotely close to that or in such a tone. Something inside Mark, his instincts maybe, had his stomach in knots all over again.  
  
Jackson turned his back to Mark and walked down the hall to their shared room. “N-n-no, Jackson wait.” Mark attempted again but the younger didn’t respond. “Jackson.” Mark’s voice cracked.  
  
Mark wished that it was the way Jackson had slammed his bedroom door and cut him off that had him shaking but no… it was the way Jackson hadn’t even flinched, hadn’t even looked back at him, and hadn’t actually slammed the door at all.  
  
Why had he just gone so far? Why had he just decided to ruin something when Jackson had just come to him seeking to apologize and mend whatever had been cracked under the weight of their stress? How could he have let himself mock something so delicate so ignorantly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Yay it's here. Sorry about the fucked-up-ness. I made them go at each other like rapid dogs, I know. Anyway, come say hi to me on twitter!
> 
> @harlotos


	3. denouement

**Mark could feel the instant shift in his and** Jackson’s friendship. He could sense the younger boy’s animosity toward him. It hovered over him like a dark cloud while wallowing in the seemingly endless predicament of not knowing what to do, how to act, or even how to adjust. Mark was beyond lost in Jackson’s silence.  
  
For once, oddly enough, and very much so to his own surprise, Mark felt the obligation to fix it this time around, which was probably the most unsettling part about everything. He felt cold but he felt so fucking _sorry_ for being the reason that such a disturbing mixture of emotions had flashed across the younger boy’s face. It hadn’t escaped him that Jackson had been cruel too but, looking back on it, he really had just made a huge mess. Jackson was just looking after him and being protective. It didn’t excuse what Jackson had had to say and there was a small insecure part of Mark that wondered if it was all actually how Jackson thought of him but at the same time he just wasn’t as worried about all of that as he was about not losing Jackson altogether.  
  
What was probably even more surprising, primarily to Mark yet again, was that he felt animosity toward _himself_. Where he had once been able to feel see the right in his actions, he now felt disconnected and ultimately regretful. He used to like watching Jackson squirm, unable to even _speak_ because of him without wincing or taking on a noticeably awkward demeanor whenever he had done something wrong. Now that the tables had turned, it felt so off that Mark occasionally found himself feeling sick because he knew that it was the result of something awful—something awful that _he_ had done.  
  
The only instance in which Jackson managed to treat Mark semi-normal was when he was putting on an _act_ out in public or in front of fans. It happened when he was putting on the façade he always put on in front of people who weren’t allowed to know who they really were on the inside. He had his idol mask on. In the same ways that Jackson was acting, however, so was Mark, which, in retrospect, was probably what made it easier in the first place. They still knew that there was everything wrong with their relationship at the moment, that they were very much so not okay, especially after all of the things that had been said to each other—rather, the things Jackson had said to Mark and vice versa—but that obviously didn’t mean that their careers had stopped existing.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“What’s up with you two?” Jaebum asked Mark one night after they had returned from their last schedule of the day, glancing over at Jackson who had his head resting on Jinyoung’s shoulder while watching the other boy do something on his tablet.  
  
Mark spared Jackson and Jinyoung a glance before he looked down at his phone silently, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Jaebum stared at the older boy for a solid minute, unblinking, and unamused before he sighed and shook his head.  
  
“Hyung,” Jaebum addressed sternly, nudging Mark’s thigh before he stood up in a clear _follow me_ gesture. Mark looked up at him in slight confusion before he stood up and walked out of the living room with Jaebum without sparing anyone else a glance.  
  
Jaebum led Mark into his and Youngjae’s room, closed the door and plopped down on their bed. He scooted over to the wall and leaned against it lazily before patting the spot beside him, which Mark stared at as though it were a living breathing reason to run in the opposite direction.  
  
It felt like a really bad idea… as though sitting in that spot condemned him to some pretty heavy shit. At the same time, however, the spot promised a friend willing to listen and perhaps help him, something that Mark desperately missed and needed at the moment. It wasn’t his Jackson, though. It wasn’t Jackson and so he didn’t feel the same safety in confiding to Jaebum but the loneliness and sadness had him moving forward and sitting down right where Jaebum had asked him to, pulling his knees up a bit so they were nearly pressed against his chest, his hands in his lap.  
  
“This can’t be a thing in our group…” Jaebum pointed out first, looking at Mark sympathetically. “I know that being around the same people for extended periods of time can make things get a little tense once in a while but that’s how it works here. You need to—“  
  
“I know, Jaebum… I know but… it’s more complicated than that.” Mark mumbled, lowering his phone, his thumb tracing the edge mindlessly as he breathed shallowly. “…I don’t know what to do with this.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Jaebum asked.  
  
Mark closed his eyes and hung his head forward, feeling his eyes sting a little because _fuck_ , this just wasn’t something he was prepared to talk about calmly whatsoever. He felt so helpless and _depressed_ that there was pretty much no way to keep himself levelheaded.  
  
“S’okay…” Jaebum soothed, reaching over to touch Mark’s thigh, rubbing it gently and comfortingly. “Sometimes shit happens that we think we can’t take back and then—“  
  
“I messed up…” Mark whispered after a brief pause, opening his eyes a little, the tears that had been building fell and hit the skin of his hands. “I messed up so bad…”  
  
Jaebum hesitated, unsure what he was about to get involved with, especially when he noticed the tears. Mark could tell that he was preparing himself to hear the absolute worse thing possible, especially because Jaebum had taken a moment to remain completely silent before he was ready to continue to urge Mark to let out whatever it was that was wrong.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“I don’t… I don’t fucking… _know_.” Mark sniffled, reaching up to wipe a tear away with the heel of his hand. “I just… I just got so _mad_ and I wanted to be spiteful… I don’t fucking know what’s wrong with me or _why_ I thought it would be okay to do what I did… I don’t know why I wanted to hurt him like that. I don’t know why I wanted to see him hurting…”  
  
“What do you mean by that? You wanted to see who hurting?” Jaebum asked. Mark reached up and tangled his fingers into his own hair and pulled at it lightly—not enough to hurt—but he ultimately couldn’t bring it upon himself to say it without feeling ashamed all over again. There was so many reasons why it was scary. It involved his _career_ , of course, but that wasn’t the biggest thing to him. Mark couldn’t stand the possibility that he had drove Jackson away.  
  
“Mark…” Jaebum murmured gently albeit patiently, just wanting the other to know that he was still there and waiting to be allowed to help.  
  
“Jackson hates me…” Mark whispered, swallowing thickly, which did nothing to help how nasally his voice had become from crying.  
  
“Jackson could never hate you, Mark.” Jaebum replied matter-of-factly. “You guys are such close friends… You should here him—”  
  
“Not anymore…” Mark whimpered. “I hurt him… I fucking…”  
  
“How?” Jaebum paused and then exhaled audibly. “I’m sure that whatever happened can be fixed…”  
  
Sniffling, Mark clenched his jaw, attempting to slow his breathing down as he tipped his head back and rested it against the wall.  
  
“I came home late the other night… I was out… a-and he basically called me out for my shit but not in a mean way; he was just worried about me… He—“ Mark sniffled once more, swallowing hard in an attempt to fight down another whimper. “He brought up something that wasn’t exactly something I wanted to hear… but it was so fucking true that it pissed me off enough to make me want to hurt him like he was hurting me and I did, Jaebum… I hurt him really bad. I know I did. He won’t look at me anymore. He won’t even _talk_ to me…”  
  
“What did you do to hurt him…?” Jaebum asked gently.  
  
Mark shook his head, not because he didn’t know what he had done but because he didn’t want to _say_ it. How could he expect someone else to hear it and not hate him too? How could he even expect them to hear it and accept it if he could barely find the courage to admit it outloud to himself?  
  
Also it didn’t help that Jackson had been the only one he had ever told where he went when he would go out alone so late at night… Jaebum wouldn’t understand anything. It would be out of context and the worst-case scenario would be that Jaebum _sympathized_ for him, which was something Mark didn’t want.  
  
Mark didn’t need someone to comfort him into believing he wasn’t wrong because he knew that he _was_. The only thing that he got out of telling Jaebum anything was knowing that at least someone would be willing to listen.  
  
Realizing that Mark wasn’t going to voice what he had done wrong, Jaebum sighed and looked down at his lap for a moment, unsure what to say or do on behalf of his friend when he didn’t have much knowledge on what was even going on.  
  
“Have you actually tried to talk to him…?” Jaebum asked.  
  
“He won’t let me even come close… we’re never alone anymore. I haven’t slept in our room since it happened…” Mark mumbled, sniffling. “S’been two weeks… he’s never done this before—never _this_ long.”  
  
“So make it a point to talk to him… take it upon yourself to get him alone to talk.”  
  
“He doesn’t want to hear me, Jaebum…”  
  
“You have to try… whatever this is, I know that he loves you… I know that his love for you is stronger than this; it can’t be ruined by just one thing.” Jaebum replied, his voice soft and strangely soothing.  
  
Mark whimpered as he felt guilt hit him like a fucking brick, causing him to cry all over again as he shook his head. He felt like such a wimp as he buried his face into his knees and let it go. He felt Jaebum’s hand on his back a second before he felt himself being pulled into a warm and secure hug.  
  
“I promise you that he cares… he may be angry but love doesn’t go away so suddenly—“  
  
“He made me…” Mark whimpered and swallowed thickly as he calmed down just enough to speak at least somewhat coherently, “he made me love him… I shouldn’t have wanted him but I did—I do—…”  
  
There was a long pause before Mark also felt Jaebum tighten his arms and then press his cheek to the top of his head. “I know, hyung… I know.”  
  
Mark wasn’t sure what that meant but he didn’t have the mental stability to think twice before he kept going. “I can’t want him like I do. I always thought he’d never want me too so I… I found someone else… someone like him. I pretended… every single time… I pretend it was always Jackson. I always pretended… Even when it hurt so bad I could barely take it anymore, I pretended.” Mark whispered brokenly.  
  
“Does he know, Mark?”  
  
Mark whimpered and hid his face but Jaebum only asked a second time. “Does he know?”  
  
“I don’t know… No… he doesn’t.”  
  
“Why don’t you tell him?” Jaebum murmured softly, comfortingly.  
  
“It doesn’t matter…” Mark swallowed thickly. “He hates me now and is disgusted with me.”  
  
“You need to talk to him, Mark-hyung. You need to.”  
  
“I can’t…” Mark sniffled. “No…”  
  
Jaebum went silent but did not let Mark go. Mark figured that Jaebum was holding himself back from saying something but he never actually ended up saying anything at all. He simply held him and rocked him as gently as possible. The silence was nice and Mark found comfort in the warmth but his heart was heavy knowing that the one he cared about most was in the other room and entertaining thoughts of having absolutely nothing to do with him. All he wanted was to fix it. He knew that if he could turn back time, he would have done things so much different. Even if he hadn’t known about Jackson’s feelings, he would’ve done things differently.  
  
Mark thought to himself, as he sat there with Jaebum and allowed himself to be comforted into at least not crying himself to death, that if he had even the slightest chance to change things… he would take it.  
  
He would definitely take it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Despite how late it was, this usually wasn’t quite how the end of the day went. The boys were by no means a noisy bunch after practicing at the dance studio but someone typically tended to find something to talk about.  
  
Tonight, no one wanted to say anything. Most of the group was napping.  
  
Mark glanced over at Jackson once in a while, the latter of which never changed his appearance. He was looking through his phone, his hood up and his snapback was low enough to shade his eyes a bit. Mark knew that the second they got home, he would get up and go into their shared bedroom before the rest of them without a word and thus shut them out even before they had the opportunity to ask what was going on.  
  
Especially because it wasn’t like no one could tell that something was off at this point; it was always obvious that something had happened if Jackson was quiet and calm for once.  
  
No one had really mad an effort to ask. Sure, Jaebum had pulled him aside a week before but that was about it. Nothing had changed and Mark was still completely closed off. Jackson hadn’t said a single word to him since they had been on an interview two days beforehand and even then, it wasn’t much.  
  
When the car stopped, everyone filed out lazily. Bam Bam was the last to be woken up by Yugyeom who patted his cheek lightly in an effort to coax him awake. Body tired and drained, Mark slowly gathered his things while everyone else seemed to head up to their shared apartment.  
  
Jackson had to reach past him for his backpack—they were the last two at the car—but there was not a word shared or even a glance in his direction. Jackson pretended that Mark wasn’t even there… but there was something that told Mark that maybe this was his chance.  
  
Swallowing thickly, attempting to steel himself. As they walked into the building, Mark almost opened his mouth and stopped himself several times. His heart was stuttering in his chest—he was nervous. When he finally managed to do anything, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  
  
“Jackson, can we talk?”  
  
No answer. Mark didn’t know what else to do so he tried again.  
  
“It’ll be quick…” Mark mumbled. “I just… I just need to—”  
  
“What are you doing?” Jackson inquired, sounding a little impatient, especially when Mark didn’t answer right away.  
  
“Trying to talk to you…” Mark answered, his voice small.  
  
“No, you’re not… there’s nothing we need to talk about.” Jackson pointed out vaguely, his voice so much colder than what Mark was used to. “I’ll be dragging your bed out tonight.”  
  
“That—no—…that’s _our_ room…” Mark argued, his heart dropping a little.  
  
“I told you I wanted you out.” Jackson replied impatiently, not looking at Mark as he continued up the stairs to their level.  
  
“I don’t care—we have to talk—“  
  
Jackson turned and walked up to Mark, standing so close that when he spoke, his hot breath ghosted over Mark’s lips, which intimidated Mark into turning his head away and shrinking back slightly until his back hit the wall.  
  
“Do I look like I’m kidding, Mark?”  
  
Mark swallowed thickly and forced himself to look at Jackson—no he didn’t look like he was kidding at all. “No… I know… I—“  
  
Jackson smirked sarcastically and shook his head, “You really don’t, man. You don’t know shit apparently if you think you still have anything or anyone to me to the point of being able to force yourself on me.”  
  
Mark swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw as he turned his face away again to stare off to the side. He felt so small on the receiving end up of Jackson’s anger. It was the very first time he had ever been unable to look at Jackson without feeling so completely and utterly wrong and the worst part was that it was no one’s doing but his own.  
  
“Stay away from me.” Jackson ordered finally, turning on his heel.  
  
“N-No…! Please.” Mark said, looking up to look at Jackson, feeling panic rising in his throat; he couldn’t lose him. “Wait!”  
  
Jackson was turned back to the other by the sound of Mark whimpering, at which point he was suddenly aware that the older boy was looking at him with his eyes glazed. He looked so overwhelmed and unaware of what to do that it had Jackson’s heart dropping into his stomach. Instinctively, Jackson wanted to feel bad for Mark and to baby him—to fix what had happened between them in favor of moving on and becoming close again… but Mark apparently thought so little of his love—so little of _him_.  
  
“You’re home to me.” Mark mumbled, his voice thick. “I need us to fix this…”  
  
Jackson blinked and Mark could see the anger manifesting right before his eyes in the other boy.  
  
Jackson scoffed. “I’m not your home. Home is anywhere else but here. Far the fuck away from me.”  
  
“No…! I’m sorry—”  
  
“Sorry?” Jackson turned around again after initially attempting to walk away, his voice pitched in disbelief and anger. “All I ever am to you is sorry. I apologize for everything with you. I say sorry every time I see you. I apologize for shit I didn’t even know I had to be sorry about until I met you because everything is wrong to you. That other guy does no wrong, though. _He_ is perfect, right, Mark?”  
  
“No… No no no… That’s not true—“ Mark attempted to say but Jackson was already cutting him off again.  
  
“Jackson, you’re too loud. Jackson, why are you like this? Jackson, you’re being embarrassing. Jackson, stop, people are looking at you. Jackson, you’re so annoying. Jackson, I bet you couldn’t go a day without talking. Jackson, you show off too much. Jackson, just be normal for one day. Jackson, don’t talk about _him_ like that. Jackson, don’t be mad about this. Jackson, just be there when I need you. Jackson, this is wrong, that is wrong—you’re doing it wrong.” Jackson was staring at Mark, eyes growing glassier than usual as he went on. The more he went on, the more Mark realized it was deeper than he originally thought. “I’m _not_ sorry anymore, Mark. I will fucking find people who accept me, I’ll find people who appreciate and _respect_ me, and to _them_ I’ll be home. I’m done with you. I’m done trying to be this person that you just use.”  
  
Mark was staring at Jackson now, feeling helpless because he had never seen the boy like this; so hurt and vulnerable. It was always common knowledge that the most important thing to Jackson was the people closest to him—his friends and family.  
  
“T-That’s not what I think of you at all.” Mark replied, his voice thick.  
  
“That’s the thing, Mark… I don’t give a flying _fuck_ what you think of me because I’m done thinking of you. Done kissing your ass just to hold on to you. So you wanna talk? No. I don’t _care_ what you have to say.” Jackson seethed. “I’m done being there when he fucks up and then waiting around for you to treat me like I’m something instead of the nobody you run to when you’ve got no one else. I’m not the one that needs you, Mark. Contrary to whatever you might think... I. Don’t. _Need_. You.” Jackson spat; each word was laced with what Mark knew was hurt even though it was being passed off as anger.  
  
“Don’t do that.” Mark whispered. “I n-need you. I-I forgave you when you—”  
  
Jackson scoffed, looking somewhere in between offended and vaguely appalled at where Mark had been going with that, which was why the older had at least known better than to finish what he had been saying. Mark swallowed hard and then forced himself to look at Jackson, not liking the look he was met with at all; it was cold and hateful. Two words Mark would have never used to describe the other to begin with; it was scary.  
  
“I... I-I _need_ you.”  
  
Then Jackson was up in his face again and for a moment, Mark was absolutely certain that the younger was going to hit him.  
  
“That is _done_.” Jackson spat. “I made one mistake… I fucking said all kinds of shit I didn’t mean once and I would’ve got on my knees and begged you not to leave me because of how important you were to me.” The younger continued, growling under his breath. “But you wanna know something, Mark? Fuck you. I’m actually glad I didn’t.”  
  
Mark glanced up and watched as Jackson started walking away, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t get used to the sight of Jackson turning his back on him. He didn’t want to.  
  
“Wait,” Mark said quietly, so much so that there was no way Jackson could have heard him.  
  
Before he could think about what he was doing, he was running after Jackson and stopping him a second time by grabbing him by his arm. Only this time, Jackson whirled around and grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him hard against one of the walls.  
  
Mark let out a shaky breath, his eyes watering with a mixture sadness and anxiety—a miserable combination. “Jackson, please.” He choked. “I didn’t mean to do that to you. I didn’t mean it and I’m so fucking sorry…” He whimpered.  
  
Jackson shoved Mark away from him violently, pacing in front of him for a second before he was back in Mark’s face, holding him by the collar of his shirt once more, and pinning him hard against the wall.  
  
“Tell me something,” Jackson seethed, “had you just sucked his cock before you put your mouth on me? Had you just fucking swallowed his come before you decided to kiss me?”  
  
Mark shook his head violently, his vision blurring even more as he shook his head ‘no’ so hard that it made his temples hurt a little, the tears gathering in his eyes finally escaping a bit. “No. No, I would _n-never_ d-do that to you.”  
  
Jackson snorted, staring at the older long and hard before he pulled back, eyes narrowing.  
  
“I don’t believe you.” He said gently, his tone contrasting his apparent anger. “It only hurts more to know that love was all I had for you. I fucking…l-let… myself—”  
  
Jackson looked like he was falling apart and Mark couldn’t breathe, his tears slowly gathering as he whimpered and looked at the younger imploringly. _Please don’t leave me_ … He watched as Jackson swallowed hard upon being cut off by his voice cracking, his eyes having gotten glassier and also started welling with unshed tears. Mark swallowed thickly, wincing when he watched a tear fall from one of Jackson’s eyes.  
  
He knew that it was his fault as well.  
  
“It’s ironic, you know?” Jackson mumbled, reaching up to wipe at his own face angrily, not wanting Mark to see him crying but it was clearly too late for that. “You were right but you were wrong. Love doesn’t hurt at all… but loving _you_? That hurts like a bitch.”  
  
Mark whimpered, his knees nearly giving out beneath him; had Jackson not had him pinned against the wall, he might have very well hit the floor. Had he really just told him that he loved him? Desperate, Mark reached up and placed his hands against Jackson’s wrists, trembling all over, especially as Jackson’s grip on his shirt eased up a bit. He didn’t know what to expect form the other boy at this rate, didn’t know what he could possibly be thinking. All Mark knew was that Jackson was hurting and he was the reason why.  
  
Knowing that, Mark’s heart plummeted into his stomach as Jackson leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, sniffling softly as he closed his eyes and willed the tears to stop—Mark didn’t bother controlling his tears as he watched the boy he loved cry because of him. Little by little, Mark felt as though he was being ripped into tiny pieces. Never once had he felt so emotional over another person before, never once had he felt so raw toward another person before, and never once had he felt so hopeless.  
  
He felt so fucking awful for hurting someone so fucking _pure_. How dare he hurt someone so good?  
  
Whimpering once more, Mark tightened his hands on Jackson’s wrists, not wanting the other boy to leave him despite knowing that it was inevitable. It felt like it was only a matter of time before Jackson ripped away and kicked him out of the room.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Mark whispered shakily, his voice huskier than usual from crying. “I’m sorry… _Please_ , I’m so sorry...”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling of their room. There was a large part of him that felt shame for how out of hand his emotions had gotten earlier. He had begged. It wasn’t that he had practically gotten on his knees and begged for forgiveness, that he had gone so far out of his way—even though it _was_ a little humiliating—but instead, what was getting to him the most, was the overwhelming feeling that he had gotten _nowhere_. Sure, he was being allowed to lie in his own bed for the first time in weeks… but the feeling was still the same. The atmosphere was thick and tense… So maybe there was _some_ progress but it was miniscule at best.  
  
Jackson had not said a word to him since they had walked into the apartment. Mark’s eyes were puffy and red, his nose was still a little runny and his heart was heavy while recalling the look of utter defeat on the younger boy’s face by the time he had given in. He could understand that their entire situation was emotionally taxing - it truly was, for both of them. Mark was in a state of emotional turmoil over all the pain he caused. He blamed himself even though his instincts tried desperately to tell him that it took _two_ to end up like this.  
  
But Mark just wanted them to be okay again.  
  
That’s all he wanted. He didn’t care whose fault it was. He would shoulder all the blame if it meant Jackson didn’t walk away from him for good. He could shoulder all the blame if it meant getting over it and moving forward into something good… He couldn’t really imagine life without the other boy… He had never been able to. He didn’t want to. He didn’t plan to.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark spent longer than usual in the shower, his head hung forward under the stream of water. It was warm and gentle on his tense muscles but it did absolutely nothing to sooth the ache. It was just a very temporary and calming presence while his mind lagged out. His emotions were still a little out of whack, his eyes still hurt and his lips were now raw due to his inability to stop biting them.  
  
When he finally walked out of the shower, everyone was still up except for Youngjae who had likely retired to his room. Jaebum made a lazy comment to him, warning him to not leave messes behind in the bathroom. Mark was too mentally exhausted to defend himself so he didn’t really care if the other members thought that the reason he had taken so long in the shower was because he was too busy getting off.  
  
Mark walked up to his— _their_ —room and carefully turned the doorknob to see if Jackson had left it unlocked. To his surprise, he had. It was the second night he was back in their room and he had kind of been convinced, when he had woke up that morning, that it had been a twisted dream.  
  
Mark carefully and quietly stepped inside, his heart almost completely still in his chest. It was warm inside the room, counteracting the cold of the hallway. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting.  
  
Jackson was lying on his side, with his face to the wall. Mark knew that he wasn’t sleeping though… he could feel it. Jackson had never been an obnoxious snorer but his breathing was light and airy. It was easily one of the most soothing things in the world. Even before the huge mess they had gotten themselves in, Mark would always notice when Jackson was gone.  
  
At night, if he couldn’t hear Jackson’s breathing, he had a more difficult time sleeping. There was a noticeable emptiness in the room. Mark wasn’t afraid of the dark nor was he afraid to be alone but there was something about sleeping in the same room as Jackson for the last few years that he had simply gotten too used to. He complained about no privacy but really… on the opposite side of things, it was nice to know someone was there when you felt most alone.  
  
So yeah… you could say Mark definitely knew Jackson was awake.  
  
Mark stood beside Jackson’s bed, just lingering; he was thinking. He really wished he knew what to say to the younger boy but he didn’t… he was at a loss. He had never been good with words and in a time where it would’ve helped most to be good at something like that, words were truly elusive.  
  
“Do you need something?” Jackson’s voice was loud in contrast to the silence, which was why it made Mark startle rather violently. It wasn’t a question. It was clearly a ‘go away’ sort of statement disguised in the form of a question.  
  
Mark swallowed thickly and shook his head once even though Jackson wasn’t facing him or able to see it. He walked over to his bed and got comfortable among the blankets and sheets that he had missed for the last few weeks. They were cold and a little unfamiliar still, even a little bit fluffier than he remembered. It was so comfortable—possibly too comfortable to be real at that moment. It crossed Mark’s mind again that he was probably dreaming and likely to wake up on the couch the following morning but he didn’t care. He mind was tired and his body was aching.  
  
Sleep found him quickly that night unlike the one before. Had he stayed away just a few minutes longer, he may have been awake to see Jackson carefully pick his head up and looking back at him from over his shoulder. He may have noticed the gentleness of his gaze. He may have noticed the heavy expression on his face… He may have noticed just how horrible Jackson _really_ felt and how lost he really was in the mess they had made… but he didn’t.  
  
Mark was dreaming of the time he first met a very loud mouthed brat whose smile would eventually become his favorite thing in the world.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark had been back in the room for about a week. The first few nights, he really had done nothing but sleep like he was supposed to but later on in the week, Mark had been getting to bed a bit late.  
  
It wasn’t necessarily that Mark hated himself or anything but it wouldn’t be entirely obtuse to say that he had made an astounding number of unintelligent decisions in his twenty-three years of living and it was starting to get really old, even to himself. How he could manage to acknowledge that something wasn’t a good idea but still opt to make the unfavorable choice every single time was thoroughly beyond him.  
  
_Why do I do that shit?_ Mark wondered, feeling the sting in the corners of his eyes, particularly centered in his tear ducts. He had never felt so regretful for any one thing before, never quite like this. At the moment, Mark just wanted Jackson to be at his side, looking at him like he was special and great but all he ever got any more was distance, cold and just enough for everything to seem like it was okay in front of fans. When they were home, away from the cameras, though, Mark felt the weight the most. Never did Jackson speak to him outside of obligation, never did he come to him about anything anymore and never did he even look in his general direction without being prompted to do so…  
  
Mark had long since been sorry—there weren’t many words to accurately describe to what extent—but it was almost painfully clear that no matter how apologetic he was, nothing could take back what he had had the absolute audacity to say to someone who was so close, special and just trying to look after him. Seldom was there ever a day that went by where Mark looked at Jackson and felt fucking horrible for what he had said. The guilt ate at him ferociously, ripping him apart from the inside out.  
  
He hadn’t even managed to apologize to Jackson’s face calmly, particularly because every single time he looked at Jackson, he heard the argument, watched it all play out over and over and it drove him away. He remembered the look on Jackson’s face, the shattered expression seconds before Jackson had bailed. The boy hadn’t let him in the room that night, nor the night after, or the night after that.  
  
It had taken _ages_ for him to let him come back to their room. When he did, he hadn’t said a single word to Mark nor had he even _looked_ at him and, if he were being honest, the message, though loud and clear, wasn’t being received well...  
  
Even when Mark saw Jackson sleeping, he felt sick. He found himself staring over at Jackson’s expressionless face, wanting more than anything to know that it was okay to crawl over and sleep in the other boy’s bed beside him but he knew, even without asking, that the other didn’t want him to so much as invade his space more than was necessary let alone touch him.  
  
Mark just wanted Jackson to want him, to at least tell him that he wasn’t lost or hated, that he just needed time. Mark would be willing to accept that, to hear that Jackson just needed time to forgive him.  
  
“ _Okay_ ,” he would say, his voice most likely weak, pathetic and desperate for anything that Jackson was willing to give, “ _just don’t leave me._ ”  
  
There was nothing, though; Jackson didn’t seem to want anything to do with him.  
  
Mark felt a tear roll down his cheek upon blinking seconds before he felt someone—Jaebum—touching his arm as he looked at him with concern. Mark sniffed and shook his head, reaching up to wipe his face before he glanced beyond Jaebum and at the rest of the room where he wasn’t surprised to notice that everyone was looking at him with sincere concern.  
  
Except Jackson.  
  
Aware that there was really no excuse that he could tell his friends about why he was crying, especially when he had been just playing a stupid app on his tablet beforehand, Mark shook his head and stood up from the floor and went to his room where he could cry in peace; he didn’t need people to see it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark looked at Jackson with large and glassy eyes, feeling his throat tighten as the boy walked into their room nearly an hour later and proceeded to engage in the habitual before-bed routine. After he had changed his clothes, went over to his own bed, pulled back the covers and situated the pillows carefully. Mark found himself sitting up and looking at the other with watery eyes, his voice desperate.  
  
“Talk to me…” Mark whispered, his voice cracking, which caused Jackson’s movements to halt—his heart dropped into his stomach too but Mark wasn’t aware of that—but he ultimately continued on as normal seconds later, which made Mark whimper and reach up to press the heels of his palms into his eyes.  
  
“Please talk to me…” He murmured, his voice light and surprisingly even despite the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “I know that you care about me. You’re hurting and you’re trying to protect yourself right now but please don’t… don’t give up on me…”  
  
Looking up from his palms, Mark blinked a few times to steady his vision before he clenched his jaw and watched Jackson getting situated in his bed, his back to the younger. Mark sat there for a moment before he crawled forward on his hands and knees, hesitating before he bit his lip and reached for Jackson’s shoulder but the second his fingers brushed Jackson’s skin, the older boy jerked away from him but he didn’t say anything.  
  
“Jackson,” Mark said quickly, snatching his hands back despite desperately wanting to make contact with the other, “please just—“  
  
“Don’t—”  
  
“I’ll do anything, okay?” Mark blurted, his voice trembling, “I know what I did—“  
  
“Is that your apology?” Jackson asked, his voice was so callous that it made Mark tremble all over. “Is that the best you can do? You’ll do anything?”  
  
“I don’t know _what_ to do, okay?” Mark admitted weakly, looking at Jackson almost pleadingly. “I just want to make this better… I just want—“  
  
“Are you that desperate?” Jackson asked, turning to glare at Mark for the first time in what seemed like forever. “S’even funnier that you think what you want matters to me…”  
  
Mark blinked, whimpered, and then shook his head frantically, “I didn’t mean—“  
  
“Answer a question for me, Mark.” Jackson interrupted, his glare intensifying. “Would you suck my cock and let me come down your throat if it meant me forgiving you?”  
  
Mark stared on with wavering eyes, his tears threatening to fall all over again; he assumed that he must look so pathetic and very much so not like anything close to the person that most knew him to be. Mark couldn’t quite place how it felt, couldn’t quite figure out why, but his heart only sunk lower into his stomach; he was scared.  
  
“Yes.” Mark paused, blinked, and then sat back on his legs while looking down at his knees. “Yes.”  
  
Jackson stared at him for a moment before his eyes turned a bit hollow. “How the mighty have fallen, huh, _Dimsum_?” He snorted, provoking Mark’s heart to plummet nearly all the way down to his feet.  
  
Not only did Mark’s heart continue to break, his lungs felt as though they had collapsed as one sharp breath left his body; _no no no… he really is disappearing_.  
“You’re being so mean to me…” Mark whispered.  
  
“I know.” Jackson replied.  
  
“Jackson… please.” Mark spoke up immediately, shaking his head as he shifted back a little, scrambling for something to say. “We’re so much closer than this.”  
  
“You don’t _have_ a friend in me, Mark.” Jackson corrected callously. “I thought I made that clear. I tolerate you because I have to. Whether you think I should be here or not, this is my job—my career. Tolerating you has become just another thing on the job description and the second this all stops. The second I walk out, be it because I get kicked, I quit, or we disband all together? That’s when I forget you completely.”  
  
Mark trembled and hung his head forward between his shoulders, his tears hitting the fabric of his pajama pants. Jackson was hurting him _so_ bad…  
  
Mark sniffled and then picked his head up to look at Jackson, his emotions completely bare. He moved forward gracelessly and reached for Jackson and just held him tightly, not allowing it when Jackson attempted to rip away several times before giving up, opting to stare on in disgust as Mark sniffled and did everything in his power to stop crying but he failed _miserably_. It hurt so fucking bad he could barely wrap his head around it. He was trying. He was trying so hard to get through but it felt like he never would. Bringing one of Jackson’s hands up, Mark held it against his chest, wanting to feel close to something that was so obviously far away. Even if they were touching, it felt like Jackson wasn’t there, like he was miles away and it hurt so much more than Mark ever thought it would.  
  
“I didn’t mean it.” Mark whispered, bringing Jackson’s hand up to press his cheek against it as he whimpered. “I deserve you being angry with me, I know that, but I don’t want to lose you all together; you are so fucking important to me…”  
  
Jackson just stayed silent.  
  
“I don’t think of you negatively.” Mark picked his head up quickly, scrambling. “I was being so stupid… W-What I did wasn’t okay or even forgivable… I… I just don’t—I can’t—lose you completely. I won’t.” Mark mewled in slight pain, his body aching. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to say. I’m just sorry…”  
  
Jackson stared at Mark for a long moment, looking over his face as he thought about what the other was saying to him. In a lot of ways it was everything he had always wanted to hear from Mark, everything and a little more just based on the tone in which it had been said.  
  
Of course, Mark had never been the type to be stingy with his appreciation for his friends or family but the thing that Jackson had craved was deeper. Jackson wanted a sincere and _deep_ expression of love—it didn’t matter of what caliber the love was—but he always got something generic, something that everyone tended to receive no matter how close they were to Mark.  
  
In many ways it wasn’t entirely wrong to say that Jackson just wanted to know that he was of higher importance, on a different level than others if not at least the majority of others and in that moment, Mark was telling him exactly what he had wanted to hear all along… but he was miserable.  
  
What it came down to was… Jackson wasn’t heartless. In fact, his heart was far too big to feel nothing upon seeing someone he loved in the position Mark was in. It had been that way since the day they had started fighting. He was being so callous toward Mark but it wasn’t easy. Nothing he had done had been fueled by hate… but rather mutual pain. They had hurt each other unlike anyone else had ever been able to.  
  
“Please…” Mark mumbled breathlessly, weakened and easily pulling Jackson from his thoughts, “please stop… stop hurting me…”  
  
Jackson blinked, looking over Mark’s face intently as the other boy’s tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, during which he slowly reached up and placed his right hand against Mark’s cheek, brushing his thumb gently against his skin. In his chest, Jackson’s heart thawed, beating warm and hard against his ribcage for the first time in what felt like a long time even if it was just a few weeks.  
  
Mark looked up at Jackson, staring up at him with wide and watery eyes, his heart hammering hard against his own chest as well because he was so scared it was all about to fade away. It seemed too good to be true. Jackson was touching him. There was this part of him that swore that he was about to get slapped or strangled but he didn’t care because Jackson felt warm against him.  
  
Jackson’s hand rested against his jaw, tipping his head up a little which made the older tense up a bit, believing even more that Jackson was about to beat the shit out of him at any moment. What actually happened, however, came as more of a shock than anything else probably could have.  
  
Jackson leaned down, his bangs mixing with Mark’s as he pressed his lips firmly against the older’s. Mark’s hand trembled as he placed it against the wrist of the hand that Jackson used to hold his face into place. His breath hitched as Jackson tilted his head and kissed at Mark’s lips almost angrily, his actions dominant and blatantly passionate. It almost hurt a little.  
  
The arm Jackson was using prop himself up slowly gave out so that he was then propped up by his elbow against the bed beside Mark’s head, his fingers finding their way into his hair while the hand on his jaw remained warm and steady even with Mark’s own hand around his wrist.  
  
Mark didn’t understand.  
  
When Jackson pulled away, Mark’s eyes slid open, a stray tear slipping from the corner of his eye into the hairline of his temple. Jackson didn’t say anything despite how long Mark let the silence go on. He just looked down at him, appearing to be thinking. Mark wanted so bad to know what was going on in Jackson’s head but he wasn’t willing to shatter that atmosphere so he stayed quiet and still, just looking up at Jackson’s face.  
  
Eventually, Jackson leaned down and nuzzled his cheek before lying beside him and pulling Mark into his body, fitting together like puzzle pieces. He wrapped his arm tightly around Mark’s waist and buried his nose against the back of his neck. Mark’s eyes were wide with shock, his heart beating so hard that he could hear it in his ears. He swallowed thickly and reached down to hold the hand against his stomach, biting his own bottom lip.  
  
Neither boy really ended up sleeping but they didn’t move from that position until they could clearly hear the other members starting to walk around. Even then, Mark didn’t resist the urge to press back slightly against Jackson’s comfortably firm chest. He couldn’t care less about anyone or anything at that moment.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The days blurred together. Schedules were daunting but the seven boys pushed through it with as much effort as they could, attempting to appear youthful and excited to be alive even though they were all very tired and aching for some time to breathe. There was little hope for an entire day off but the days where there were fewer schedules than others were appreciated.  
  
For Mark, he just wanted some time to spend with Jackson. They hadn’t really had any level of bonding since the spooning had started up again. Even then, it was an odd cycle. They would sleep together at night but they would not talk. Mark wasn’t sure what it meant but he knew that he wasn’t hurting as much and he was more than willing to let things mend and unfold carefully if it meant a happier ending.  
  
Today was one of those days they had been hoping for, luckily enough. It wasn’t too packed as far as schedules. It was just a few early things and then practice for four hours—it was supposed to be six but their manager had had mercy on their souls—and so the entire group had decided to go get dinner… BamBam and Jackson were huddled around Jackson’s phone, giggling every so often. Mark wasn’t sure what they were looking at but it was nice to see Jackson smiling.  
  
Mark smiled softly to himself, watching the pair absentmindedly until Jackson looked up and caught his gaze. Mark blinked, the smile fading instantly and then he was staring down at his own phone again, afraid that he had just somehow freaked the other boy out. The urge to mumble an apology was overwhelmingly strong but Mark managed to fight it down. He could still feel Jackson’s eyes on him but he forced himself to not look up.  
  
He was definitely being a coward but he didn’t know how else to handle it.  
  
When they all decided they were ready to go, Mark lingered a bit behind everyone else, risking a glance in Jackson’s direction. The other was preoccupied with cackling at something Yugyeom had just done or said, Mark wasn’t sure.  
  
“You look so broody lately.” Jaebum murmured, startling Mark who placed a hand against his chest, exhaling deeply. “Sorry, hyung…”  
  
“It’s fine… I’m fine…” Mark replied, reaching up to rub his own temple, noticing a semi-concerned look on Jaebum’s face when he looked up.  
  
“You sure…?” Jaebum murmured, wrapping his arm around Mark’s shoulders, allowing it to drape lazily.  
  
“Yes.” Mark replied, his attention immediately being ripped away at the sound of another high-pitched laugh. He did, however, attempt to recover and look back at Jaebum as though he hadn’t looked away at all but the other had noticed.  
  
Mark expected Jaebum to comment on it but the other boy seemed to know better than to try. Mark felt quite a bit of relief over it. He really didn’t feel like attempting to explain that of which he didn’t understand himself.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark looked up at Jackson warily, knowing in his heart that this probably wasn’t a good idea but his body was notably aching for it.  
  
When they had gotten home, things had proceeded relatively normally and much like he would have expected. Mark had taken a shower and sat around with the members for a while—everything was nice. However, when it had come time to retire to their rooms, Mark was surprised to find himself on his back with a very dominant and assertive looking Jackson hovering over him, his hips rested between his legs and his bangs tickling his forehead.  
  
Craning his neck, Mark pressed his lips against Jackson’s lightly, testing the waters. His heart was beating a little faster, especially when he could feel Jackson spreading his legs further and then pressing between them, which provoked the instinct to wrap them around his waist loosely. Feeling his entire body trembling, Mark tightened his legs and kissed Jackson a little harder, bringing his hands up to hold his face.  
  
Even though they hadn’t done this in quite some time, it was somehow so much more natural than what Mark would’ve expected—it felt like they were meant to be there.  
  
Breath hitching, Mark broke the kiss, one of his hands slipping back to hook around the back of Jackson’s neck to pull him closer.  
  
“I haven’t done this in a while…” Mark murmured huskily. “S’gonna be tight.”  
  
“I’m banking on it.” Jackson drawled, causing Mark to tremble a little; the younger boy’s voice had never sounded so sexy before.  
  
Mark let himself be kissed heatedly, his stomach swirling at the feeling of his shirt being pushed up to his chest while a warm hand trailed down his side before it gripped his hip and jerked him forward into Jackson’s hips.  
  
Mark gasped against Jackson’s lips as her arched his back a little, his hips trembling a bit at the feeling of Jackson pressing against his already semi-stiff cock. He had never imagined they’d be in this position again. Now that they were, it was absolutely intoxicating.  
  
The kissing didn’t last long before Jackson pulled back and detangled Mark’s legs from his waist. Immediately, Mark could tell what kind of fuck this was going to be and he wasn’t sure if he had ever been more ready to take _that_ level of abuse before. It would hurt. He was definitely about to get it but there was something so fucking _enticing_ about having an inkling about what he was about to get.  
  
Without too much prompting, Mark rolled onto his stomach. He had barely even gotten situated before he felt Jackson shoving his shirt up his back a bit and tugging his pants and boxers down to his thighs. He felt Jackson’s hands on each of his ass cheeks, his mind being allowed no time whatsoever to catch up with what was going on, before he felt Jackson’s mouth and tongue—hot, wet and anything but gentle—at his entrance. Had he been standing, Mark’s knees would have buckled. His cock flexed and brushed against his stomach as he let out a forced moan for Jackson’s effort. Mark gripped the sheets and smushed his cheek against the pillow, his breath hitching uncontrollably as Jackson ate his asshole like it was what his life had been leading up to.  
  
Continues feeling Jackson’s tongue pressing inside him had Mark’s cock stiff and on the verge of leaking—it even had him holding his breath a little. It was the first time Jackson had _ever_ done such a dirty thing to him before and oh boy, Mark’s world was in shambles. By the time Jackson had pulled away, Mark’s hole was clenching tightly, reflecting how overwhelmed he was.  
  
Mark blinked and glanced back over his shoulder a bit, watching as Jackson pushed his own pants down just enough to get his cock out. He watched with dilated pupils as the younger made quick work of slipping a condom on and lubing himself up too. If he were being honest, Mark couldn’t believe how it made him feel. It was unlike any other time they had been together.  
  
The obvious _need_ and _urgency_ in Jackson’s actions had been what forced the first leak of precome to drip from Mark’s cock and on to the sheets.  
  
Jackson tossed the tube of lube to the side and shifted closer, brushing the wet tip of his cock against the back of Mark’s balls before he slit it up to his entrance. He teased it very briefly before pressing in a little, forcing a mewl from Mark’s throat.  
  
“Fuck, wait,” Mark gasped, whimpered softly as the very tip of Jackson’s cock pressed inside, his hips running away, “l-let me… just—” He bit his lip, reached back to grip Jackson’s cock, guided it back to his entrance, and then spread his legs a little wider despite his waistband protesting. It was for the sole purpose of help the cock go in more easily, which was more important to Mark than pretty much anything else at the moment.  
  
“Nngh…! …!” Mark gasped sharply, his voice cracking as his fingers spread a little wider around Jackson’s cock, feeling it push all the way inside him in a sudden and swift movement.  
  
Jackson, contrary to what Mark would’ve expected a few weeks back, didn’t attempt to have a full-blown heart-to-heart with him but rather focused on driving him absolutely insane. Every move that he made had his body writhing, his heart beating faster, his breathing coming more shallowly and his vision blurring.  
  
Mark gasped, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of Jackson’s cock forcing its way into him. He reached up and grabbed the edge of the bed with one hand, his knuckles turning white as his body tried to reject the intrusion but Jackson wasn’t letting up nor taking the hint. Jackson had only pushed harder until the tight ring of muscles gave way and he was bottoming out a little too fast. Mark choked, an involuntary whine leaving his lips as he arched instinctively in attempts to take the cock better, a whimper leaving his lips as he felt Jackson’s teeth scrape against the back of his neck. He brought his other hand up and clamped it onto the edge of the pillow and held on tightly while his head hung forward between his shoulders.  
  
Luckily, Jackson didn’t start moving right away. He merely stayed still, his breath shallow due to the feeling of Mark clenching around him involuntarily as well as the fact that he had already been wired before being inside Mark.  
  
But when he _did_ start moving, it was beyond Mark’s ability to describe.  
  
Jackson watched as Mark pulled his shirt up a little more and stuffed some of it in his mouth, his teeth bared as he bit down hard seconds before he was spreading his legs a slight bit more, arching his back as his back muscles rippled and strained, his spine curving beautifully—Jackson recognized the body language easily.  
  
This was apparent when Mark felt Jackson let go. He began fucking him with absolutely nothing being held back.  
  
Mark trembled and let out a weak mewl whenever Jackson pulled out a little and then mewled again a little louder whenever his cock went back in. It was almost constant.  
  
Mark’s moans were strained and desperate through the fabric of his shirt, sounding more like sobs in Jackson’s ears. Jackson moved his hand from Mark’s sharp hipbones to his front, tracing the straining muscles with his finger tips before he guided them back down between his legs, during which Mark’s hips raised a little. The older had barely enough consciousness to do so.  
  
Jackson snapped his hips forward and buried himself deep, staring at Mark’s face darkly as the older sobbed into the shirt stuffed into his mouth, his hips trembling at the feeling of Jackson so deep and unmoving.  
  
“On your knees,” Jackson panted, his voice deep and demanding.  
  
Mark breathed a weak whimper and then weakly complied, forcing his thighs to move as he propped his ass up on his knees all over again, providing Jackson with a sinfully clear view of his cock buried to the hilt inside Mark’s tight clenching asshole. Mark couldn’t remember when he had been fucked so hard his knees had given out but apparently they had. Mark went to get up a little more by pushing his torso up and off of the bed but Jackson shoved him back down with a hand on his spine between his shoulder blades.  
  
“Stay.”  
  
Jackson stayed still, relishing in the feeling of Mark shaking against him, near constant mewls escaping his throat, his knuckles white as one hand now grabbed at the sheet, the other remaining latched onto the pillow beside his face.  
  
The younger’s hands slid over his hips and along his sides, finger tips ghosting over Mark’s ribcage of which seemed just as unsteady with each breath as the rest of his body. Mark didn’t know what Jackson was waiting for but his entire body was anticipating, his eyes red, watery, and pupils dilated. Jackson’s hands eventually reached back down between his legs where he found Mark’s cock straining, so hard it was pressed up against the older boy’s abs, the tip glistening and wet with pre-come. He wrapped his fingers around the base tightly, glancing up in time to see Mark’s eyes roll shut at the feeling, his hands tightening on the pillow and sheet. He let go and placed his hands back on the older boy’s hips, and then Jackson slowly drew back and then pushed back in, watching as Mark’s lower back bowed; his spine a perfect curve once again. He was ready for it.  
  
Mark breathed a moan, turning his head and burying his face against his own bicep as Jackson started to move extremely slow.  
  
Jackson’s hands slid up Mark’s sides, under the loose fabric of his t-shirt, and continued on to graze over the expanse of his stomach, ribs, and his chest while his hips moved shallowly.  
  
It went like this only for a few moments before Jackson pulled back and pushed Mark into the mattress. Mark grunted as Jackson held him down with a hand on the back of his neck, forcing his chest to press down against the mattress while his ass remained propped up in the air on his knees. With a strangled moan, Mark’s jaw locked at the feeling of Jackson’s cock moving in and out of his body, stretching his hole nearly beyond what he could take while he scraped in deeper and deeper.  
  
Mark could barely breathe and he even caught himself drooling a slight bit against the pillow. Jackson had never been like this before and he couldn’t help but take note. It was in complete contrast. By the time Jackson had decided to grab Mark’s hair and jerked his head back, forcing the older boy to press back against his chest with a small whimper as a string of pre-come dripped down from the head of his cock as it twitched involuntarily between his legs, Mark was basically gone.  
  
“I fucking… _hate_ you.” Jackson growled, forcing a sharp moan from Mark who clenched tightly around his cock. “Get out of my head.”  
  
Then Jackson shoved Mark forward again, leaving Mark to find himself face-down-ass-up once more. Jackson’s hands moved to grab the older boy’s ass, holding him wide open so he could watch his cock sinking in and out of Mark’s hole, the skin red and abused from everything it had been through already. Each time he pulled out, he would pause with just the head in, watching as Mark’s hole twitched for him before he would sink back in, listening to the way Mark would keen while repeatedly seizing up around him if he stayed still long enough.  
  
Mark wanted it faster, harder— _now_. He wanted to take _everything_ Jackson had to give.  
  
He felt so vulnerable and knowing that Jackson was looking at him _there_ made everything worse but at the same time, he was too far gone to care. Mark had never been like this before. This was entirely new. Never had he been in a situation during sex—with _anyone_ —where he had gotten so lost in it that he was barely able to think consciously. Normally, Jackson could have been staring at his dick and Mark would have felt less embarrassed but having Jackson watching himself fucking him—it felt dirty in a way that Mark couldn’t fully fathom at the moment. It was dirty in a way that Mark didn’t _care_ to fathom at the moment.  
  
Each push and pull was torturous. Mark turned his head and looked back at Jackson with half lidded eyes, the younger still holding his ass cheeks apart as he took his time teasing him, somehow allowing him to go just a little deeper, or so it felt. Mark could feel Jackson brushing a thumb against his hole and tracing the stretched skin as well seconds before the younger boy looked up at him, catching his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before Jackson broke the gaze and moved his hands from Mark’s ass to his hips, pulling back as though he were about to pull out… except he didn’t.  
  
He used his grip on Mark’s hips to pull him back onto his cock, provoking a choked gasp out of the older boy’s throat as Jackson’s dick hit just right, a white hot flare of pleasure spiking through out Mark’s body so violently it had caused his hips to jerk and his shoulders to tense up. Mark barely had a moment to register the feeling fully before it was gone, a dull ache left in place of the previous intense feeling that had Mark’s hole clenching eagerly for a repeat of the feeling. Jackson’s fingers dug into his hipbones as he set a new pace, which was brutal and Mark could barely breathe over the feeling of a cock being shoved in and out of him too hard and fast to register properly.  
  
Mark practically screamed through the fabric of his shirt, sounding like a wounded animal in his own ears for the few seconds in which he actually had enough breath left in his lungs to scream at all. After that, Mark could do nothing but gasp, only barely ever managing to be able to moan, grunt, or whimper. There was no way that he wasn’t going to be absolutely humiliated later, but in that moment he couldn’t care less what kind of sounds he was making as Jackson’s cock hit his prostate head on. From there it seemed like he couldn’t miss it, either brushing it or slamming right up against it and it was overwhelming to the point of which Mark thought he might explode.  
  
Mark reached down to touch himself but one of Jackson’s hands moved from his hip to grab Mark’s wrist before pinning it hard against the bed. It had Mark whimpering pathetically, choking on a sob, his breath halting as Jackson seemed to fuck into him so hard it was as though air was being punched out of his lungs each time Jackson entered his body.  
  
Jackson held his wrist tightly for a couple of moments until he let it go in favor of stroking his cock, his grip tight and brutal. Mark squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath until he suddenly felt Jackson burying himself deep and going still, except his hand kept moving. Mark’s entire body seized up, his hole clenched hard around Jackson as his orgasm hit, his cock jerking with each shot of come that spilled between is stomach and the sheets while his hips bucked weakly. All Mark could do was mewl and writhe.  
  
Jackson could feel each wave of Mark’s orgasm in the way his hole gripped tightly around his dick but he didn’t move until Mark’s orgasm was over. Only then did he pull away from Mark’s cock, grab his hips, and start fucking him again. Mark whimpered as his body jerked with the force of Jackson’s thrusts.  
  
Jackson kept going, even as the final sparks of Mark’s orgasm faded. He squeezed his eyes shut and seized up tightly around Jackson’s cock as the younger fucked him harder, faster, and with complete abandon; he fucked him so hard and roughly that Mark was forced off of his knees and was eventually practically lying flat on his stomach on the bed again. Tears welled in Mark’s eyes and then fell as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the backs of his thighs feeling sore from the abuse, his hole felt so thoroughly used that it left him gasping. He could feel the last stray bits of come before forcefully milked out of his cock.  
  
Reaching back, Mark gripped one of his own ass cheek before he reached back with his other hand to grip himself on the other side, holding himself open to the assault as he turned his head and looked back at Jackson through red half lidded eyes, his tears still slowly falling on occasion as he gasped or moaned weakly; it was so mind numbing, so _good_ that neither boy could think anymore. It was all instinct.  
  
Seconds later, Jackson snapped his hips forward and buried himself deep yet again, at which Mark let out a strangled wail, released his grip on his ass cheeks in favor of gripping the sheets and pillow in desperate need to hold on to something and trembled all over as the feeling of heat overwhelmed him.  
  
Unlike Mark, Jackson didn’t make a single noise as he came. His cock twitched as his hips canted involuntarily, during which the older boy felt a final tear roll down the corner of his eye and then soak into the pillow at the oversensitivity.  
  
For the second time, Jackson stayed buried deep. His hips were pressed firmly against Mark’s ass, his cock was still pulsing from the orgasm. Both of them were shaking now. He had hunched over a bit, his hands on either sides of Mark’s ribs against the bed. His chest heaved as he waited a moment to catch his breath. Even the smallest move had his hips twitching, particularly whenever Mark clenched.  
  
After a moment, Jackson moved one of his hands from the bed and placed his palm against Mark’s lower back, holding him down as he slowly and carefully pulled out. Mark’s lower back fought against the pressure a little, his hips rising instinctively until Jackson’s cock parted from the older boy’s body with a lewd wet sound. He then shifted off to the side and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his chest rose and fell while he breathed a bit heavily. Mark remained on his stomach, eyes now closed with his main focus on catching his breath.  
  
Still lying there, Mark continued to pant shallowly, his sweatpants still around his thighs, his shirt rucked up all the way up to his neck, the hem still stuffed between his teeth albeit more loosely. His entire body was still tense, his muscles flexed and trembling from the strain. It was an entire minute before he shakily relaxed against the bed, his fists finally, albeit slowly, releasing the sheets and pillow.  
  
The feeling of no longer being filled felt particularly raunchy at that moment as Mark’s hole, stretched, red, and abused, clenched around nothing while his hips touched down against the bed limply. It was as though it expected more.  
  
Mark felt Jackson moving around, being able to hear as the younger pulled the condom off when he got up out of the bed and walked out of their room, leaving the door cracked very slightly. The light was bright when Jackson flicked the switch on in the bathroom, vaguely lighting up the room of which Mark was still in laid on the bed fucked out of his mind.  
  
His hands were a little weak from having been gripped onto something for so long, his fingers a little stiff as he slowly slid his right hand down his body to pull his pants up, his left pulling his shirt from his mouth. His swallowed hard, his throat and jaw revealing themselves to be sore as well. He carefully rolled off of his stomach and onto his side, feeling the sheets sticking to his him a little.  
  
He glanced up toward the bathroom as he heard Jackson turn the shower on, able to hear it when the shower curtain was pulled closed.  
  
Mark got off of the bed carefully, feeling fragile despite how humiliating it was to acknowledge such things. He pulled his shirt off and cleaned himself up with it before he stripped the bed off the sheets—feeling obligated to do so. He could feel the remains of the lube with every move that he made as well as the ghost of Jackson’s cock inside him.  
  
He gathered the dirty sheets and his clothes into a bag in the corner of the room for when they did wash later. He glanced down the hall again before walking toward and into the bathroom slowly. He licked his lips and turned to the sink where he turned the water on and gathered some into his hands. He washed his mouth out and then washed his face before looking up at the mirror.  
  
He looked… wow. His lips were swollen and red, his cheeks still flushed and his hair was everywhere. His bangs were disheveled across his forehead—he looked exactly the part of what had just happened moments ago. He glanced over at the shower, noticing that Jackson was still in there and through the translucent door; he appeared to be just standing there.  
  
Mark blinked and then turned to leave but was suddenly stopped by the sound of the door sliding open. Mark turned his head hesitantly to see Jackson looking at him.  
  
“Come here.”  
  
Mark blinked and then swallowed thickly before turning and walking up to Jackson, standing still. Even when Jackson opened the door further so he could properly pulled Mark’s pants and boxers down—upon getting dressed, he only bothered with a new pair of pants and underwear—Mark stayed completely still.  
  
He followed Jackson into the shower when he stood up straight, took his head and guided him inside. They showed together in silence but it was a different sort of silence than the one Mark had grown used to. There was something reminiscent about this silence—something comfortable and familiar.  
  
Mark had this weird feeling that things were better tonight.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They had been lying there for quite a while. After the shower, Jackson had seemed particularly touchy. In fact, the first thing he did when they were back into their room was tug them over to Mark’s bed where they laid down lazily. For the last half hour or so, Mark had been reveling in the feeling of Jackson’s fingers in his hair, his cheek pressed comfortably against Jackson’s abdominals. It was hard to explain but he could tell things were different. Things really were better.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Mark murmured after a while from where he still had his cheek resting against Jackson’s stomach, his fingertips tracing the line of the other boy’s hipbone seconds before he turned is head and began kissing the younger boy’s skin gently.  
  
“Me too…” Jackson mumbled, brushing his fingers against the back of Mark’s neck slowly.  
  
“I didn’t mean it.” Mark added softly between kisses, working his way up Jackson’s torso and the center of his chest until he reached his neck.  
  
Jackson bit his lip and tilted his head to the side slightly, running his hand up from Mark’s wrist, over his elbow before he reached up and cupped Mark’s face. He picked his head up so the older boy’s face was hover over his.  
  
“I shouldn’t have…” Jackson whispered, clenching his jaw. He didn’t want to say it—Mark could see it clearly.  
  
“Me too.” Mark said again.  
  
Jackson frowned, stared up at Mark for a moment before he then leaned in to nuzzle his face against Mark’s neck gently, pressing a very light kiss against his pulse. It was clear that Jackson had been aware that he had stepped out of line, especially because he never apologized unless he knew he had to. He wasn’t the type to roll over and play possum when things went wrong; he would fight his point or even fight for someone who couldn’t fight for themselves but he never backed down for no reason.  
  
He had backed down first that night, aware that he was wrong and fighting aimlessly, but Mark hadn’t been ready to let up and so things had escalated beyond what either of them had expected or been prepared for. The result was uncomfortable but the tension had significantly dissipated since then.  
  
“I made you cry…” Jackson murmured suddenly, sliding his hand up into Mark’s hair to weave his fingers through it.  
  
“I made you cry too…” Mark whispered, closing his eyes as he frowned and swallowed thickly. “I fucked everything up when you were just trying to be good to me…”  
  
“But what I did to you…” Jackson trailed off, shaking his head. “I wanted to stop and I felt so bad but all I could think about was that you’d just do it again… Then that night you begged me to talk to you and I fucking… I felt like a monster.”  
  
“You’re not a monster…” Mark whispered, pulling back to look down at Jackson’s face.  
  
“I shouldn’t have said all that shit and I shouldn’t have taken it so far… regardless of how mad I was.” Jackson whispered. “I hated that I was hurting you and I still did it.”  
  
Mark went quite and simply laid on top of Jackson for a while after that, just thinking to himself. Occasionally, Jackson would speak and Mark would listen but he mostly _just_ listened. His mind was racing and he was sure Jackson could feel it when his heart shifted in rhythm but he didn’t really care. Everything was so… complicated.  
  
When Jackson finally went quite, Mark continued to lie there for some time before he decided to speak and when he did speak, it was with the relief of finally being able to speak his mind about things he had previously been made to hold in.  
  
“—I don’t fight you because…” He bit his lip, swallowed, and then relaxed. “I don’t fight you because I want you. Whenever you come to me I want you to touch me, I like the feeling of you wanting me so much that you lose it in the middle of it, you forget your anger, and you come back to us. I like being what grounds you… The very first time it happened I wanted it so bad I didn’t even care why it was happening. The second time, I didn’t even care why you were angry, I just knew that you had finally snapped and you were willing to look at me. You needed release. I wasn’t even thinking like I was your friend during those times. I was selfish and taking what you were willing to give me. Y-You don’t understand…” Mark muttered. “You could have said anything else… a-and it would’ve been easier for me to take...”  
  
“I didn’t mean what I said… I don’t even know why I wanted to hurt you.” Jackson whimpered, holding Mark’s face delicately as he leaned up and pressed his forehead to Mark’s gently. “I… I didn’t even have a good excuse to be angry. I just knew that I wanted you to hurt like you hurt me. You ruin me. You play with me and you run me in circles and it…”  
  
“What are you even saying right now, you idiot?”  
  
“I feel cheesy and fluttery all over and it’s only ever with you. Understand?” Jackson murmured, opened his eyes to look at Mark carefully. “That night… I just wanted to make you feel better. I wanted you to smile.”  
  
Mark swallowed thickly, turned his head slightly to the side, and closed his eyes; he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Jackson grimaced and turned Mark’s face back to him, after which the older boy opened his eyes and looked down at Jackson wearily.  
  
“Don’t play with me right now, Jackson. Please. I’m tired and I don’t have it in me to even pretend like it’s funny.” Mark murmured.  
  
“No… I’m not being funny. I’m—I know it sounds stupid and I feel stupid whenever I acknowledge it because the only way to even describe it makes it all sound like a joke… Like a big fat cliché…“  
  
“Just try to explain it to me your way.” Mark sniffled, eyes wavering a little; he looked so tired and resigned that it actually made Jackson feel less confident. It was almost as though he was expecting pain of some kind.  
  
How could Jackson have let that be possible? How could he have let Mark start to expect only _pain_ from him?  
  
“Please don’t look at me like that.” Jackson whispered, brushing his thumbs against Mark’s cheeks.  
  
Mark closed his eyes and sighed softly, collecting himself. When he opened his eyes again, they were still soft but he tried not to look so hopeless.  
  
“Explain it to me your way.” Mark repeatedly, albeit more clearly.  
  
Jackson swallowed thickly, licked his lips, and closed his eyes; he couldn’t even look at Mark while he said it—he was a coward.  
  
“I get to get up on a stage in front of hundreds of thousands of people and do something I love while listening to them screaming my name in return. I look at the faces of thousands of girls—occasionally even boys—and I know I could have any one of them if I really wanted to; more than just one if I saw fit.” Jackson explained, during which Mark just looked down at Jackson with detached and half lidded eyes. He couldn’t help but expect this to hurt, whatever it was. “I inspire people, I give them hopes, dreams and ambitions. I give them someone to look up to; I’m an image; I _am_ living a dream.”  
  
Jackson went quiet then, steeling himself, his jaw clenching repeatedly but Mark knew that the younger wasn’t finished or at least he hoped so because nothing that Jackson had said was making him feel better and he really was hoping that something might be said to fix it soon.  
  
“It all pales in comparison to how you look at me.” Jackson said very slowly, wincing at his own words but he continued anyway. “Even when I’m pissed off, so much so that I could destroy everything in sight without thinking twice, you still look at me as though I’m _your_ ambition, your hope, your strength—your fucking _King_ at times… It makes me feel like I’m so much more when it comes from you. It’s stronger than a thousand pairs of eyes on me in admiration, it wears me out like several straight eight-hour practices hitting me all at once. What you don’t understand is that it’s not the sex that brings me back… it’s just you; finally having you when I already want you so bad it hurts.” Jackson blinked, slowly opening his eyes. “I come back because it’s never enough.”  
  
Mark stared down and Jackson evenly, his throat tight, his breath hitching in his chest.  
  
“I just want you to want me… the way I want you a-and maybe that’s why I was so angry. I just—I wanted to destroy you… because you destroy me.” Jackson paused, brushing the fingers of his right hand from Mark’s temple to his jaw. “I hated hearing about some random guy when I thought I was doing so good by you… I thought I was giving you everything you needed… and then you just stopped and started chasing that _mother_ fucking _prick_ of a human being… and I hated you for it… Part of me was that angry… but I was always first and foremost your friend and I tried to keep that there for you when you showed me that you needed it.”  
  
Mark leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, swallowing thickly. “That sounds suspiciously like a very cheesy thing that just might make me cry if you say it.” He whispered softly.  
  
“I’m not going to make you cry again.” Jackson mumbled. “I never want to do that to you again…”  
  
“Maybe I want to cry this time…” Mark murmured, bringing his hands up to brushing his thumbs against Jackson’s jawline. “Say it…”  
  
Mark tightened his hold on the younger and held him close, tangling their legs together; he was aware that the moment wouldn’t last forever, he had no intentions on letting go any time soon; he’d make the most out of the moment while he could. Mark felt Jackson cup his face and bring him close, nuzzling his cheek against his own. He brought his lips to his ear and whispered the words that Mark had wanted more than nothing else to hear, the Chinese reaching his ears like a gentleness he had never realized he craved.  
  
Tears did come but smiles were soon to follow.  
  
_(“I love you...”)_ And _fuck_ if Mark didn’t love him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****Chapter three!**** Thank you in advance for reading. I sincerely hope it was everything you hoped for. :3 Please excuse typos or butchered sentences. I miss stuff all the time and fix it over time.  
>   
>  **Twitter: @harlotos**


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